


Fragile Things

by MiaCooper



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Adult Content, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, F/M, Quantum Mechanics, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8761036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/pseuds/MiaCooper
Summary: An encounter with a quantum rift sends Janeway and Chakotay on a journey through what might have been.





	1. Every Day Is Freshly Ground

**Author's Note:**

> All quotes are from Neil Gaiman’s “Fragile Things” story collection, and I’ve borrowed heavily from the TNG episode ‘Parallels’.
> 
>  **Disclaimer**  
>  Paramount built the amusement park. We just play in it.
> 
>  **Thanks**  
>  I was lucky enough to score three amazing betas for this story, so this is dedicated to Mary S for her eagle eye and incredibly speedy editing, [Caladenia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Caladenia/pseuds/Caladenia) for hauling me out of a few massive plot holes, and [LittleObsessions](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleObsessions/pseuds/LittleObsessions) for her lyricism and for always making me smile.
> 
>  **Warning**  
>  Dubious consent elements in a couple of chapters.

**1\. Every Day Is Freshly Ground**  
**Stardate 51130.2**  
  
_I remembered something somebody had once said to me: It's okay. Every day is freshly ground._  
  
  
Janeway ducks into the _Tereshkova_ , unsurprised to find her first officer already seated at the helm. “I see you’ve taken the driver’s seat,” she comments drily, settling herself at the science station. “Try not to crash the shuttle this time, understand?”  
  
Chakotay sends her an exasperated glance. “You do realise it doesn’t actually count as my fault if I crash because I get shot down, don’t you?”  
  
“Doesn’t it?” She widens her eyes. “Well, try not to get us shot down today then, Commander.”  
  
“Don’t worry, Captain,” Chakotay replies with mild sarcasm as they clear the shuttlebay, swooping into a showy turn so he can grin through the viewscreen at Paris, manning _Voyager_ ’s helm. “It’s a routine supply mission to an uninhabited M-class planet with no unpredictable weather patterns or atmospheric anomalies. I think I can confidently say we won’t be crashing or getting shot down today.”  
  
The captain affords him a dark look. “You realise you’ve jinxed us now, don’t you?”  
  
But she can’t help letting the corners of her mouth quirk up as he grins at her.  
  
She’s been both fearing and anticipating this mission. She’d insisted, over Tuvok’s objections, that she and Chakotay team up, in the hope that spending some time together might help mend their friendship.  
  
So far, she’s hopeful. Their banter feels a little forced, a little overstated, but at least they’re both trying.  
  
“Course laid in and engaged, Captain. We should reach the planet in about three hours at warp four.”  
  
“Acknowledged.”  
  
Locking the science station into a broad range sensor sweep – standard practice on _Voyager_ away missions these days, when, in unknown and potentially hostile space, every second of forewarning might count – Janeway gets up and heads to the replicator, keying in her coffee order. Chakotay snickers.  
  
“Something funny, Commander?”  
  
“Seven minutes,” he answers. “I think that may be a personal best.”  
  
She looks at him, perplexed.  
  
“You made it seven minutes out of the docking clamps before getting your first coffee,” he elaborates. “Last time we went away together it took you at least eleven minutes.”  
  
She pretends to look outraged. “I had no idea my personal habits were such a topic of interest to you, Commander. Perhaps we should go away together less frequently.”  
  
“You can run, but you can’t hide,” he grins.  
  
Janeway returns to her station and leans back in her chair, swivelling in his direction.  
  
“What?” he asks, feeling her eyes on him.  
  
“I was just wondering how you’re doing these days.”  
  
Chakotay turns to face her. “Doing?”  
  
“After the Vori,” she says hesitantly. “I know you’ve been counselling Tom and B’Elanna after their near-death experience, not to mention Neelix and the Doctor since we lost Kes. But you went through something soul-shaking barely a couple of weeks ago, Chakotay. Who do you talk to?”  
  
“I’m all right, Captain,” he answers, but the smile fades from his face.  
  
“Are you?” she asks. She leans in to place a gentle hand on his arm.  
  
He takes a quick breath and draws back. “I’m fine.”  
  
“You used to talk to me,” she says quietly.  
  
“You’ve been busy. Seven of Nine –”  
  
“- has been taking up all of my spare time,” she finishes for him. “I know. It’s my fault you and I aren’t as close as we used to be. The deal with the Borg –”  
  
“- was your call to make,” he interrupts. “And we’ve had this conversation.”  
  
“But you’re still angry with me.”  
  
“I’m not angry,” he says abruptly.  
  
Janeway meets his gaze.  
  
“Not with you,” he says, softer. “You’re right, though. Things aren’t … we aren’t the same.”  
  
She knows he’s right. They splintered over the Borg alliance, and her own preoccupation with helping Seven acclimate to life outside the Collective has driven the wedge further between them. And then they’d just been starting to make peace, resurrecting their weekly dinners and talking more easily, laughing together more freely, when Chakotay was kidnapped by the Vori and brainwashed into killing their enemies. Since then he hasn’t been the same. He’s been withdrawn, silent, preoccupied with thoughts of death and anger and despair, and she knows she hasn’t tried hard enough to reach him.  
  
She misses him, and it hurts.  
  
“What can we do?”  
  
Chakotay can’t recall ever hearing her sound so defeated. Reaching over, he rests his hand on hers. “I don’t know, Kathryn. But you … our friendship is important to me. We’ll figure it out.”  
  
She smiles back at him, and then the shuttle pitches sharply and her smile disappears.

“What was that?”  
  
Chakotay has already turned back to the helm. “Some kind of energy surge –” he begins, but he’s cut off by another lurch. Several consoles spark and lose power.  
  
Janeway punches the button to activate the comm system. “ _Tereshkova_ to _Voyager_.”  
  
~Tuvok here. Go ahead, Captain.~  
  
“We’ve been hit by some kind of energy discharge,” she answers, rapidly running sensor sweeps. “I’m detecting a tachyon signature. Main power is failing. We need –”  
  
She stops, hearing the unmistakeable whine of an energy build-up in the EPS relays.  
  
“Take cover,” Chakotay yells, but it’s too late.  
  
There’s a sizzle and a crack of white light as their consoles explode, followed by ripping, horrifying pain. Janeway collapses to the deck. Blinded, she reaches out for Chakotay, but before she can touch him, she’s engulfed in blackness and silence.


	2. Dreams You Can't Kill

**2\. Dreams You Can’t Kill - Chakotay (I)**  
**Stardate 51130.5**  
  
_Even dreams, the most delicate and intangible of things, can prove remarkably difficult to kill._  
  
  
“Ah, you’re awake, Commander.”  
  
I open one eye, find the Doctor’s tricorder hovering an inch from my face and quickly shut it again. “What happened?”  
  
“You suffered a few bumps and bruises, a fractured arm and a concussion, but I’ve repaired your injuries. You’re going to be fine.”  
  
“How?” Gingerly, I pull myself upright.  
  
“It seems that your shuttle was caught in some kind of tachyon disturbance that caused a system-wide energy cascade. We barely managed to beam you out before the shuttle was destroyed.”  
  
“She’s going to kill me,” I mutter, then, “The captain?”  
  
“The captain escaped with minor injuries and I released her from sickbay two hours ago. In fact, she should be calling to check on your condition –”  
  
~Janeway to sickbay.~  
  
“- right about now,” finishes the Doctor. He taps his commbadge. “Sickbay here, Captain. Commander Chakotay has regained consciousness.”  
  
~Acknowledged. I’ll be right there.~  
  
In minutes, the captain is striding through the sickbay doors, and I sit up, holding up my hands in penitence. “I know, Captain. I’m banned from piloting shuttles for a month.”  
  
She gives me a confused look. “It wasn’t your fault, Commander.” Turning to the Doctor, she asks, “Is he cleared for duty?”  
  
“I’d like him to take the rest of the day off,” the EMH objects.  
  
“I’m fine, Doctor.” I get to my feet. “Ready for duty, Captain.”  
  
She nods, and the EMH sighs noisily as we walk out of sickbay.  
  
“I really am sorry about the shuttle, Captain,” I apologise as the turbolift doors slide shut.  
  
“Deck one,” she orders, then turns to me, her voice unusually soft. “Stop worrying about the shuttle, Chakotay. I’m just glad you’re all right.”  
  
She holds out her hand. Surprised, I automatically take it, and then blink as she winds her fingers into mine and smiles up at me.  
  
“Are we still on for dinner tonight?”  
  
I don’t remember us arranging dinner, but I’m not about to argue. “Of course. Your quarters or mine?”  
  
“Mine. 1930 hours.” She seems to lean in a little closer, her voice lowering. “No uniforms.”  
  
The ‘lift stops, and she lets go of my hand, striding onto the bridge, calling for reports.  
  
I unglue my feet from the turbolift floor, trying to recall if she has ever suggested civilian wear for our working dinners before. She gives me another warm smile as I take my seat beside her.  
  
“I hope you’re feeling brave,” she whispers, leaning over the console toward me. “I thought I’d try replicating one of my mother’s recipes tonight. Of course, who knows what that malevolent toaster in my quarters will do to it.”  
  
“It can’t possibly turn out worse than whatever’s on the mess hall menu,” I tease back.  
  
She looks surprised. “I thought you enjoyed yesterday’s soup.”  
  
“Soup? It was some kind of leola root stew last night, I’m sure. There’s no amount of Talaxian spices can disguise that taste.”  
  
“Leola root?” A small furrow appears between her eyes. Eventually she says, “Maybe I’m confusing it with another night.”  
  
“Must be.”  
  
“Well.” She stands. “The bridge is yours, Commander. I’ll be in my ready room.”  
  
“Aye, Captain.”  
  
I try not to watch the gentle sway of her hips as she walks away. As always, I fail.  
  
And then just as she reaches the ready room door, as though she feels my gaze on her, she tosses me a quick, flirty grin over her shoulder.  
  
I’m sure my mouth hangs open in shock for a good few moments, but then I remember Paris is probably taking it all in from the helm, so I settle back into my chair and pull up some reports, trying not to smile.  
  
=/\=  
  
“Come in.”  
  
I step into Kathryn’s quarters. The lights are low and there are candles and flowers on the table, some kind of bluesy music playing. The smile that hasn’t been far from my face all day reappears.  
  
It’s been too long since we dined together in anything other than uniforms and full illumination.  
  
“Right on time, Commander,” she says, and then she’s approaching me from the door to her bedroom, wearing a black dress I’ve never seen before. Her hair is down and she’s fiddling with an earring.  
  
“Wow,” I blurt before I can stop myself.  
  
She comes right up to me and puts one hand on her hip, a pose that emphasises her curves in the floaty black dress. “Well, that’s the reaction every girl hopes for,” she smirks. “Come on, let’s eat while my replicator is still behaving.”  
  
I pour wine while Kathryn brings over the plates. “Here goes nothing,” she says, and forks up a mouthful of curry.  
  
“It’s good,” I tell her, pretending amazement as I swallow my own forkful.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry, Commander. I’m sure I’ll manage to poison you one of these days.”  
  
“I can think of worse ways to go.”  
  
The easy conversation continues through dinner and afterward we retire to the couch, Kathryn cradling her coffee, me my herbal tea. Then I remember something.  
  
“Captain, in the engineering report B’Elanna mentioned –”  
  
She raises a hand before I can get any further. “I thought we agreed on no shop talk tonight, Chakotay.”  
  
We did?  
  
“All right. What _would_ you like to talk about?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me how we’re tracking in Tom’s betting pool?” Her smile curls at one corner.  
  
“You know about that?” I stare at her.  
  
She laughs. “Not much happens on this ship that gets past me, Chakotay. You should know that by now.”  
  
“And you haven’t stripped him of rank?”  
  
She shrugs, reaching over to put her coffee down. “There’s nothing wrong with a little harmless fun. And besides,” she takes hold of my hand and I stare down at it, “he’s not exactly wrong, is he?”  
  
I have no idea what to say, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead I link my fingers with hers, and she raises our joined hands to her face, leaning her cheek against them.  
  
“Well,” she says after a moment, “it’s getting late.”  
  
“I should go.” I start to pull my hand from hers, rising, but she holds on and stands with me, walking me to her door.  
  
“Good night, Chakotay,” she says, standing very close.  
  
I swallow. The way she’s looking at me… “Good night, Kathryn,” I manage.  
  
She lets our hands separate and I turn for the door.  
  
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”  
  
It’s the soft, almost sultry tone in her voice that stops me short. I turn back to her.  
  
She reaches up on tiptoe, winds her arms around my neck, and pulls me into a kiss.  
  
I’m so startled that for a moment I don’t respond. But my body figures it out before my brain does, and my hands circle her waist, my lips parting under her seeking tongue. She sighs a little and melts into me, her fingers curling into my hair. My heart is thudding. My hands are moving, one upward along her spine, one curving over her hip to pull her closer. She pushes a thigh between mine, feels my instant reaction, and shivers a little, then breaks the kiss. I can feel her breath coming fast against my neck.  
  
She lowers her heels to the floor and pulls back a little, her hands sliding down to rest on my chest.  
  
“Kathryn,” I can’t help whispering.  
  
“You should go,” she murmurs, stepping out of my arms, “before neither of us has the will to let you.”  
  
Her cheeks are flushed and all I want to do is pull her close again, but I’m conditioned to do her bidding. Not trusting myself to speak, I reach out and trail one finger down the side of her face, revelling in her slight shudder as she briefly closes her eyes. Then, schooling my face in case there are any crewmen in the corridor, I leave her quarters.  
  
=/\=  
  
I sleep better that night than I have in a while. I have no idea what caused Kathryn’s astonishing change of heart, but it leaves a smile on my face that lasts until I head to the mess hall for breakfast.  
  
“What are you doing here, Chell?”  
  
The chubby Bolian gives me an odd look from behind the galley as he slops porridge into my bowl. “Where else would I be, Commander?”  
  
“Aren’t you scheduled for maintenance crew?” It’s pretty much a rhetorical question; crew assignments are my responsibility, and I’m positive I had Chell allocated to one of Harry’s teams today.  
  
“I am?” Chell falters. “Sorry, sir, I just assumed – I’ll check the rosters as soon as the breakfast shift is over.”  
  
“Carry on, then,” I answer, since he seems to be elbow-deep in kitchen duties. I wonder where the hell Neelix is and why he’s letting someone else run his galley.  
  
Shrugging, I finish my breakfast quickly and head to the bridge.  
  
“Good morning, Commander,” Kathryn says crisply from her chair. “We have a senior staff briefing in five minutes.”  
  
“Morning, Captain.” I keep my tone as impersonal as she does, but can’t help smiling at her as I take my seat beside her. She gives me her crooked smile in return, and I could swear I see her cheekbones colour a little.  
  
Tuvok enters the bridge and Kathryn stands up. “Now that we’re all here, let’s go to the briefing room. Mr Rollins, you have the bridge.”  
  
B’Elanna is already in the briefing room when the rest of us arrive. “Captain,” she starts immediately, “I can’t stress how important it is that we find a source of verterium cortenide as soon as possible. The warp coil casings are starting to degrade. I’ve put Vorik and Nicoletti on it, but so far they haven’t been able to synthesise a suitable replacement alloy.”  
  
“What about Seven?” I ask.  
  
Kathryn turns to me, brow wrinkling. “Seven what?”  
  
“Seven of Nine. She might be able to help.”  
  
She stares at me. “That sounds like a Borg designation.”  
  
“That’s because it is.” My stomach is starting to feel hollow. What the hell is going on here?  
  
“Chakotay, are you feeling all right?”  
  
“Of course. I don’t understand. Where is Seven?”  
  
I look around the table at all the blank faces. Tuvok speaks up. “Perhaps the commander should go to sickbay.”  
  
“I think that might be wise,” Kathryn says, still staring at me.  
  
“I’m fine,” I insist, but Kathryn places a hand on my arm. “Go, Chakotay. Have the Doctor check you out.”  
  
I want to protest, but instead I nod and head for the turbolift.  
  
=/\=  
  
“Hmm,” mumbles the Doctor, studying his monitor. “Interesting.”  
  
“Report,” I snap at him.  
  
“You’re perfectly healthy, Commander.”  
  
“I could have told you that.”  
  
“However,” the EMH continues, turning to face me, “you do not appear to belong here.”  
  
“Explain.”  
  
“Your cellular structure has a different quantum signature to that recorded at your last regular medical examination. I can only include that you are not, in fact, the Commander Chakotay native to this quantum reality.”  
  
He taps his commbadge. “Doctor to Captain Janeway. I believe you should come to sickbay at your earliest convenience.”  
  
~I’ll be right there. Janeway out.~  
  
She strides through the doors a few minutes later, looking every inch the captain. “What’s the situation?”  
  
The Doctor repeats his explanation.  
  
“Another quantum reality?” She moves up to the side of my biobed, looking at me as though she’s never seen me before. “How could this happen?”  
  
“I’m afraid that’s out of my area of expertise, Captain,” the EMH answers. “Although I would speculate it has something to do with the anomaly that caused your shuttle to explode this morning. I am detecting tachyon particles in the commander’s system.”  
  
“Janeway to Torres,” she says into her commbadge. “Have you completed your analysis of the anomaly Chakotay and I encountered earlier today?”  
  
~Yes, Captain. It appeared to be some kind of quantum rift. It looks like when your shuttle entered it, the basic incompatibility between the shuttle’s warp output and the quantum energy in the rift caused the overload. It’s lucky you were both beamed out just in time.~  
  
“Thank you, B’Elanna. Bring your full report to my ready room, please. Janeway out.”  
  
She turns back to the two of us, her mouth quirking a little. “Doctor, you should scan me, as well. Just to make sure I’m in the right place.”  
  
He opens his tricorder and performs the scan. “You are, indeed, the Captain Janeway from this quantum reality.”  
  
“Why did it affect Chakotay and not me, then?”  
  
“I wouldn’t care to speculate,” he shrugs.  
  
“How do I get back?” I ask abruptly.  
  
“We’ll figure it out, Chakotay.” Kathryn gives me her professional smile, then asks the Doctor, “Is he free to go?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
I swing my legs down from the biobed and follow Kathryn into the turbolift.  
  
“Deck one,” she says absently.  
  
She stands on the other side of the turbolift, not looking at me, her gaze on the floor.  
  
“Halt turbolift.”  
  
I look over at her in surprise. She turns to face me, wariness in her eyes.  
  
“So you’re not my Chakotay.”  
  
“I guess not,” I admit.  
  
It falls into place, suddenly; her flirtatious behaviour, the candles at dinner, the kiss… “Are we,” I hesitate, “are we together in this timeline?”  
  
“We’re … getting there.” She blushes a little.  
  
A rush of envy for that other, luckier Chakotay punches through me. “How?”  
  
“After I nearly died,” she says softly, “we went sailing on the holodeck. You – he – kissed me.” She smiles. “I didn’t react well at first – I avoided him, tried to pretend I didn’t feel…” She breaks off. “Well. I gave him a hard time, for far too long. But then – I’m not sure. I woke up one day, about a month ago, and realised that I was being foolish and cruel, denying the way we both felt. We’ve been taking it very slowly.”  
  
Her eyes are soft as she looks at me. I haven’t seen that look in my Kathryn’s eyes for a long time, and I wonder if I’d be seeing it every day if I, like my double, had had the courage to kiss her that night on the holodeck.  
  
“What about –” I hesitate to bring it up, but I have to know. “What about Riley Frazier?”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“You never met her? And her cooperative?”  
  
“No. Who is she?”  
  
“We ran into her and her companions in the Nekrit Expanse about six months ago. They were Borg who’d been separated from the Collective.”  
  
She shakes her head. “We haven’t seen any signs of the Borg since we found that corpse on the Sakari homeworld. When we encountered the Mikhal Travelers they gave us stellar maps that were marked with the known boundaries of Borg space. We plotted a course around it.”  
  
“So you haven’t had any contact with Species 8472?”  
  
“No…” She hesitates. “I want to know about any potential dangers to my crew, but I have no idea if the temporal prime directive applies in this situation.”  
  
“With any luck, you’ll never meet them,” I mutter. “I guess that means Kes is still aboard then? I’d love to see her.”  
  
“Kes? The Ocampan girl?” She shakes her head. “She stayed on Neelix’s shuttle after we destroyed the Caretaker’s array. They aren’t part of this crew.”  
  
That explains Chell’s mess hall assignment, then. “And Seven of Nine never joined this crew either.”  
  
“You said she was a Borg?” Kathryn looks sceptical.  
  
“It’s a long story. Suffice to say, she joined my _Voyager_ after you – I mean, _my_ captain - freed her from the Collective. You’ve become quite close in my reality.”  
  
“Incredible,” she mutters. “And I thought integrating the Maquis into this crew was a challenge.”  
  
“It resolved itself pretty quickly in my version of reality,” I tell her. “After the Seska debacle, everyone pretty much pulled together.”  
  
“What Seska debacle?”  
  
“The one where she stole technology and sold it to the Kazon, and then she –” I stop. “This didn’t happen in your timeline?”  
  
“No.” Her eyes are wide. “Ensign Seska was lost on an away mission early in our first year. She was taken by the Vidiians, along with Lieutenant Ayala and Lieutenant Carey.”  
  
“Ayala’s dead?” For some reason it hasn’t occurred to me that this ship might have lost crewmen my _Voyager_ hasn’t. It hits hard, as though I’m just hearing about the death of my universe’s Ayala.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she says gently. “I know you were close.”  
  
“ _Are_ close,” I correct her. “On my _Voyager_ , he’s alive and kicking, as is Joe Carey.”  
  
“But not Seska?”  
  
“No.” I suppose it doesn’t matter if I tell her, since her Seska is also dead. “Seska turned out to be a Cardassian operative who infiltrated my Maquis cell.”  
  
“My God,” she says softly. “I always knew there was something off about her. I just put it down to my own jealousy –” She breaks off, blushing fiercely.  
  
“Jealousy?”  
  
“You and Seska used to be lovers,” she answers, chin high.  
  
“And that made you jealous?”  
  
She gives me a mild glare in response.  
  
“I wonder if my Kathryn felt the same way,” I murmur.  
  
“Chakotay…” Kathryn bites her lip. “I can’t speak for your Kathryn – I don’t know the full scope of the differences between our realities. But if she’s anything like me –”  
  
“She’s a lot like you,” I answer softly.  
  
“- then I can guarantee you, she was jealous.”  
  
I can’t help smiling.  
  
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she says tartly, then gives me a narrow look. “You don’t seem sure of her feelings.”  
  
“We don’t have the same kind of relationship that you have with him.”  
  
“But you’d like to,” she infers.  
  
_She’s not my Kathryn_ , I remind myself. _It’s not like I’m telling her the things she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to hear._  
  
“I would,” I answer. “More than anything.”  
  
She hesitates, then winds her fingers into mine. “I know you’re not my Chakotay, and I’m not your Kathryn. But if there’s one thing I am sure of,” she closes her eyes briefly, “it’s that I would have feelings for you in any reality.”  
  
“I hope you’re right.” I squeeze her fingers gently, wanting to hold on, knowing I need to let go.  
  
“So…” she looks up at me playfully as her hand slides away from mine, “I guess for you, last night was our first kiss?”  
  
“Yes.” I tug at my earlobe.  
  
“And how did it compare to expectations, Commander?”  
  
“Better than my wildest dreams.”  
  
She smiles, steps back from me, straightens up. “Now, unless there’s anything else we urgently need to discuss…?”  
  
“I don’t think so.”  
  
“Computer, resume turbolift,” she says, and moments later we’re back on the bridge.  
  
=/\=  
  
B’Elanna and Harry are in engineering taking readings of the rift in hopes of finding a solution to my quantum travelling. Tuvok is studying the logs from Lieutenant Worf’s reality-shifting experience on the _Enterprise_ a few years back. Kathryn pesters them for reports every half hour or so until B’Elanna’s temper gets the better of her, informing the captain tersely that she’ll report when she has new information and not a minute before. Kathryn sighs, shifts in her chair, and finally escapes to her ready room.  
  
I give her fifteen minutes, and then I follow her in.  
  
It’s no surprise to find her sitting on the couch by the viewport, staring pensively at the starfield outside.  
  
“Coffee?” I offer.  
  
“No, thanks. I’m trying to cut down.”  
  
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “I guess that’s one way you differ from my Kathryn, then.”  
  
She smiles, a little weakly.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“Chakotay…” She sighs. “Come sit with me.”  
  
I sit next to her on the couch and she turns her body to face me. The look on her face is one I’d almost describe as yearning.  
  
“You miss him,” I realise.  
  
“Yes.” She bites her lip. “It’s so strange. You’re so like him, but – I guess I’ve become used to the way he looks at me.”  
  
I wait while she finds the words.  
  
“When I decided to accept the way I felt about you – about him,” she corrects, “he stopped hiding, too. I don’t mean we give each other doe-eyes on the bridge – we keep it between us, although I’m sure at least some of the crew has picked up on it. But when we’re alone…” She can’t help smiling. “And now, when I look at you, I see the man I wouldn’t let in for so long I could have lost him. It hurts to be reminded of the pain I caused him. And it hurts to realise that you and she aren’t…”  
  
She breaks off again, and I can’t help reaching for her hand.  
  
“If we send you back,” she says, “promise me you won’t give up on her.”  
  
“I promise,” I assure her. “And you’ll get him back.”  
  
“I hope so,” she says, almost to herself.  
  
She looks so small and forlorn. I reach out to pull her into my arms.  
  
~Captain to the bridge.~  
  
I laugh as I release her. “I guess Tuvok’s sense of timing is the same in any reality.”  
  
We enter onto a bridge full of tense and solemn faces.  
  
“Captain,” Tuvok greets her. “We have detected readings consistent with a Borg transwarp conduit five light years away.”  
  
“Red alert,” she snaps instantly, then activates the shipwide comm. “All hands to battle stations.”  
  
“I thought you said you’d found a route around their space,” I address her as I take the first officer’s chair.  
  
“I thought we had.”  
  
“Captain, the conduit is opening,” Tuvok announces. “Three cubes are emerging. We’ve been detected.”  
  
“Tom, get us out of here, maximum warp.” The ship is wheeling around before she’s even finished snapping out the order.  
  
“One cube is in pursuit,” Paris says. “It’s gaining on us.”  
  
“Janeway to engineering. B’Elanna, I need the engines at full capacity for as long as you can hold it.”  
  
~Captain, the warp coils are showing signs of instability,~ B’Elanna shouts back over the comm. ~If we don’t reduce speed soon we’ll risk an overload.~  
  
“If we don’t outrun the Borg, it won’t matter anyway,” Kathryn says shortly. “Just do the best you can, B’Elanna. Janeway out.”  
  
“I’m getting a drag on the warp field.” Paris’ fingers are flying desperately over the conn. “The cube is still gaining. I can’t maintain high warp much longer, Captain.”  
  
“How far away are they?” Kathryn asks Tuvok.  
  
“They will be in weapons range in less than two minutes,” he answers, his voice grave.  
  
“We’re still losing speed,” Paris says desperately.  
  
~Engineering to bridge. One warp coil has burnt out. The others are destabilising. Captain, we have to shut down engines or the core will breach.~  
  
Kathryn gets to her feet. “Tuvok, keep the shields on a rotating frequency. Arm all photon torpedoes. Tom, drop to impulse and bring us about.”  
  
The cube looms in the viewscreen, and I clench my fists on the arms of my chair.  
  
_We are the Borg_ , announce a multitude of voices. _Lower your shields and prepare to be assimilated_.  
  
“They’re attempting to lock onto us with a tractor beam,” Harry says, his voice shaking.  
  
“Remodulate shields.”  
  
“No effect,” Tuvok announces as the ship shudders, trapped. “Shields are down.”  
  
“Options?”  
  
She looks around, sees the blank and desperate faces, and nods, swallowing hard.  
  
“Janeway to all hands,” she says slowly. “We have engaged the Borg. Arm yourselves and prepare for battle. If we don’t make it through this, I want you all to know that you’ve been the finest crew a captain could ever have hoped –”  
  
She’s cut off by the materialisation of a dozen Borg on the bridge. Before she can so much as duck, one has her in its grip. I watch in horror as its tubules bite into her neck, my eyes meeting hers as all the fierce and beautiful life drains out of them, as her skin crawls with nanoprobes. I’m opening my mouth to scream when I feel a heavy hand drop on my shoulder.  
  
And then something happens. I feel the sting of a Borg transporter beam – far less gentle than Federation – and I watch as the bridge dematerialises around me, and then there’s a wrenching, searing pain and I know nothing at all.


	3. Words That Live Forever

**3\. Words That Live Forever - Janeway (I)**  
**Stardate 51130.7**  
  
_We wrapped our dreams in words and patterned the words so that they would live forever, unforgettable._  
  
  
“Captain.”  
  
I struggle into consciousness, throat dry and head thumping. The sound I make in answer to the Doctor’s voice is more a groan than words. “What happened?”  
  
“You were transported here approximately four hours ago. Apparently your shuttle was caught in some kind of rift and the warp core overloaded.”  
  
“Chakotay?”  
  
“The commander is fine. I’ve released him to the bridge. You, however, were quite seriously injured. You had several broken ribs, one of which punctured your lung. I’ve repaired the damage but you’re off duty for twenty-four hours to recuperate.”  
  
I struggle to sit up. My head swims and I drop back to the biobed with a moan. “All right, Doctor. For once I’m not going to fight you on that.”  
  
The hiss of a hypospray against my neck clears some of the ache in my head. “This should bring you some relief. I’d like you to remain here for observation for a few minutes, but after that you’re free to return to your quarters.” He arches an eyebrow. “To rest, please, Captain. No working, and no – ahem – other activities. At least until tomorrow.”  
  
_Other activities?_  
  
~Chakotay to sickbay.~  
  
“Sickbay here,” the Doctor answers. “The captain has regained consciousness, Commander. I’ll be releasing her to quarters shortly.”  
  
~Understood.~ Chakotay’s voice is warm with relief, and I can’t help a small smile. We may have become estranged in recent times, but I never have cause to doubt his concern for me.  
  
 “Report, Commander,” I cut in, then glancing at the Doctor’s expression of annoyance, I add, “In brief, please.”  
  
~We encountered a quantum rift. The energy output of the warp core was incompatible with the quantum flux. It caused an overload in the warp core.~ I hear a sheepish note creep into his voice. ~I’m afraid I’ve managed to lose us another shuttle, Captain.~  
  
I can’t help smiling. “I think we can chalk this one up to bad luck rather than pilot error, Commander. Janeway out.”  
  
“Well,” the Doctor says, closing the tricorder he’s been waving at me. “Your readings are looking good, Captain. I see no reason why you can’t return to your quarters.”  
  
I glance down at my blue sickbay gown.  
  
“I’m afraid I had to cut your jacket to treat your injuries. The rest of your uniform is over there.” He gestures toward the privacy screen shielding an empty biobed.  
  
“Thank you, Doctor.” I duck behind the screen and strip as quickly as my still-sore ribs allow, carefully pulling on my pants, boots and undershirt. I nod at the Doctor as I head for the sickbay doors.  
  
“Remember, Captain – you need to rest,” he calls after me.  
  
I make it to the middle of my bedroom before I sway on my feet, a wave of exhaustion turning my eyelids to lead. Pulling off the clothes I’ve just put on, I move toward the bathroom, intending to soak in the tub for a while, but halfway there I’m suddenly certain I’ll never find the energy. I reverse my steps and collapse naked into bed, too tired even to pull on pyjamas, and almost instantly I’m asleep.  
  
=/\=  
  
This is my favourite dream.  
  
He’s pressed up against my back, his skin hot against mine, his lips warm as they graze my neck. His hand strokes lightly down my arm, over my hip, flattening against my stomach and sliding slowly downward. I sigh, my thighs parting to welcome his questing fingers. He strokes me, his touch feather-light, letting my excitement build gradually, until his fingers are slick with my moisture and I’m pushing myself into his hand, my breath quickening.  
  
This is usually the point at which I wake, gasping, frustrated, aroused beyond reason.  
  
Only this time it’s different.  
  
Long fingers slide inside me, his thumb stroking my clitoris, and it pushes me past the point of no return. My body convulses, waves of pure pleasure taking hold of me. A low moan rattles in my throat and he sucks harder on my neck in response. I feel his erection pushing against the cleft of my backside and I push my hips back and widen my legs involuntarily, wanting him, needing him inside me. He pulses against me, the head of his penis nudging at my entrance.  
  
“Kathryn,” he murmurs against my ear as he begins to push inside me.  
  
My eyes open.  
  
This is not a dream.  
  
A scream rips from my throat and I throw myself off the bed, landing hard on the floor and scrambling to get away. He bolts upright in bed. “Kathryn! What’s wrong?”  
  
“What’s _wrong?_ ” I’m hyperventilating. “Chakotay, _what are you doing in my bed?_ ”  
  
He stares at me. “What are you talking about? Where else would I be?”  
  
I can’t find words – my mouth opens and closes as I gasp for breath. My back is pressed against the wall, my knees clutched to my chest.  
  
He swings his legs over the side of the bed, his hands held out in a gesture of placation. “Kathryn, I don’t know what’s wrong, but I think we should get you to sickbay –”  
  
“Just get out!” I scrunch my eyes shut to block out the sight of him, naked and half-hard. “Please get out.”  
  
“Kathryn…”  
  
“Just _go!_ ”  
  
“All right,” he says, projecting calm into his voice. “It’s okay, Kathryn. I’m leaving.”  
  
I hear the rustle of clothing, footsteps padding across the carpet, the sound of the door opening and closing. Slowly, my breathing evens out and I stop trembling. I open my eyes cautiously. The bedroom is empty.  
  
There’s a framed photograph on the nightstand, but I put away my photograph of Mark and Molly over a year ago. I get up, snagging a robe as I realise I’m still naked, and walk nervously toward it. It’s a picture of Chakotay and me, both of us in dress uniform, laughing and holding hands as we duck under a shower of confetti.  
  
I shove the photograph face-down onto the nightstand.  
  
_What the hell is going on here?_  
  
I look around my quarters and realise there’s an unfamiliar painting on the wall, a tall, smooth timber sculpture standing in the corner. Draped over the end of the bed is a patterned throw rug I’ve seen before in Chakotay’s quarters. On the dressing table is a small earthenware bowl containing two gold rings.  
  
Holding my breath, I pick up the smaller one and slide it onto the third finger of my left hand.  
  
It’s a perfect fit.  
  
I yank it off and drop it into the bowl, backing away toward the door. When I hear the entry chime I almost jump out of my skin.  
  
“Who is it?”  
  
“It’s the Doctor. Captain, please let me in.”  
  
I stab my finger at the keypad and the door slides open. The Doctor holds up both hands. “I come in peace.”  
  
I step back to let him in. “I assume Commander Chakotay sent you.”  
  
“Yes, Captain. May I scan you?”  
  
“Go ahead.”  
  
I stand still as he takes readings. “The commander said you were disoriented and confused.”  
  
“That’s putting it mildly.” I cross my arms.  
  
“Can you describe your confusion?”  
  
I can feel two bright spots of colour burning on my cheeks. “Suffice to say, I woke up to find Commander Chakotay in my bed. As you can imagine, I was shocked. A state of mind which was further compounded when the commander appeared to believe this was an entirely natural and expected state of affairs…” I blush harder, wishing I hadn’t picked the word _affair_.  
  
“I see,” the Doctor says neutrally. “What _would_ be the natural and expected state of affairs, then?”  
  
I stare at him. “Not that’s it’s any of your business, Doctor, but Commander Chakotay and I do _not_ have that kind of relationship.”  
  
“I see,” he says again. That’s starting to get on my nerves. “Captain, could you tell me the stardate?”  
  
“It must be Stardate 51132.”  
  
“That’s right,” he murmurs.  
  
I have to know. “Would you care to explain to me exactly what my relationship to Commander Chakotay is supposed to be?”  
  
“You have been married since Stardate 50532.”  
  
Seven months ago? I can feel the blood draining from my face.  
  
“How?”  
  
“How were you married?” The Doctor’s brow crinkles in confusion.  
  
“How did we _get_ to that point?”  
  
“Well…” The Doctor hesitates. “Perhaps we should sit down, Captain? You look a little pale.”  
  
I let him guide me to the sofa. I clasp my shaking hands on my knees and nod. “Go on, Doctor.”  
  
“It’s my understanding that the two of you became romantically involved while you were stranded on the planet you called New Earth. You decided to marry shortly after you endured a near-death experience -”  
  
“- with the alien who wanted to take me into his matrix,” I finish, my voice hollow.  
  
He studies my face. God only knows what he sees in it.  
  
“That’s not what happened,” I tell him, rousing myself. “We never became involved on New Earth. And we certainly never got married.”  
  
He tweaks something on his tricorder. “What’s the last thing you remember prior to the events of this morning?”  
  
“I was in a shuttle accident with Cha- with the commander. I woke up in sickbay. You said I’d suffered a punctured lung and sent me home to rest.”  
  
“And before the shuttle accident?”  
  
“The commander and I were in the _Tereshkova_. We were talking about...” I hesitate, not wanting to share too much with the ship’s gossip. “We talked about his recent experience with the Vori, and how Seven of Nine was progressing. Then we encountered some kind of tachyon disturbance and were hit with an energy surge.”  
  
The Doctor raises his eyebrows. “I’ve never heard of the Vori. And I believe your mission yesterday was in the _Cochrane_ , not the _Tereshkova_.”  
  
I stare at him. “The _Cochrane_ was destroyed several weeks ago by the Cataati.”  
  
“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of the Cataati either.”  
  
“How is that possible?” My heart feels like it’s lodged in my throat.  
  
The EMH finally shuts his tricorder and meets my gaze. “I believe I have an explanation. Your quantum signature indicates that you are not of this universe.”  
  
And that’s when it hits me. I start shaking and gulping for breath, nausea rising to choke me.  
  
“Shock,” the Doctor diagnoses, quickly preparing a hypospray and emptying the contents into my neck. “Take slow, deep breaths,” he advises me, one hand on my back as the sedative works its way through my bloodstream and I gradually gather together the shreds of my control.  
  
“I’m all right now, Doctor.”  
  
“I’d like you to accompany me to sickbay.”  
  
“No.” I flatten my hands on my knees, gathering my strength, then push myself upright. “I need to call a senior staff briefing immediately.”  
  
“But Captain –”  
  
“Sorry, Doctor. Not right now.”  
  
I can still hear him grumbling as I push him out into the hallway.  
  
=/\=  
  
Dressed in uniform with my hair tamed into a ponytail, my control returns and I’m able to regard my senior staff calmly as they enter the briefing room. Except for Chakotay; I can’t deal with him right now, and my gaze skips right on past.  
  
“Good morning,” I address them when they’ve settled in, the Doctor scowling at me from directly across the table. “Unfortunately, we’re beginning the day with a problem. It appears I’ve somehow shifted into an alternate reality.”  
  
“Captain?” It’s Chakotay, his shoulders suddenly rigid with tension.  
  
I address a point somewhere to the left of his temple. “The Doctor has discovered that my quantum signature at the cellular level is incompatible with this universe. I can only assume my appearance here has something to do with the quantum rift I – we – encountered yesterday.”  
  
There’s a brief silence, then Tuvok speaks. “Did the phenomenon also affect Commander Chakotay?”  
  
“Ah.” The Doctor gets up, looking a little abashed, and scans him. “No. It would appear the commander is precisely where he’s supposed to be.”  
  
I nod at Tom. “Mr Paris, we’ll return to study the rift. Set a course at maximum warp. Lieutenant Torres, Ensign Kim –”  
  
“Ensign?” Tom raises his eyebrows, and I turn to him, questioning. “Sorry, Captain,” he mumbles sheepishly. “It’s just – I guess in your universe Harry hasn’t been promoted yet.”  
  
The tips of Harry’s ears turn red.  
  
“Moving on,” I say coolly, “I’d like _Lieutenant_ Kim to work with B’Elanna to analyse the rift and theorise why my encounter with it caused me to shift quantum realities. Seven, you might also have something to contribute. Tuvok, several years ago the _Enterprise_ encountered a similar situation in which one of their crewmen also began to travel between quantum universes. You and I will study those logs in my ready room. Commander, you have the bridge.” I stand. “Dismissed.”  
  
They all file out: B’Elanna and Harry already in animated discussion, Seven striding slightly behind them, Tom shooting me a look I can’t quite read as he ambles out onto the bridge. Tuvok waits for me at the door.  
  
Chakotay remains at the table, his gaze fixed on me.  
  
“Dismissed, Commander,” I repeat, not looking at him.  
  
“Tuvok,” he says, “would you give us a moment, please?”  
  
Tuvok exits, and Chakotay waits in silence until I can no longer bear the weight of his patience.  
  
“Did you have something you wanted to say, Commander?”  
  
“Yes,” he says quietly.  
  
“Well?” I finally turn to face him and realise he’s hunched over, staring at the way his fingers are gripping each other.  
  
“If you’re not my Kathryn…” He raises his eyes to me and I see naked dread. “Where is she?”  
  
“It’s possible that she also shifted to another reality.”  
  
“But you don’t know.”  
  
“No, I don’t know.” I swallow. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“I’m sorry too,” he says, rubbing the indent on his ring finger. “About this morning, I mean. It’s clear now that in your universe, you and I aren’t…” He trails off.  
  
“No,” I answer, my fists clenched with the effort of staving off memories of this morning, “we aren’t.”  
  
“Were you stranded on New Earth with your – with the Chakotay from your universe?” He looks up.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“But you never –”  
  
I can’t bear any more of this. I cut him off. “No. Never. I need to get to work, Commander.”  
  
He flinches. “Understood, Captain.”  
  
I walk to the door with my back held very straight and he follows me in silence.  
  
=/\=  
  
For hours, Tuvok and I pore over the logs from Lieutenant Worf’s unexpected side-stepping between universes, searching for clues to my situation. The _Enterprise_ crew postulated that the subspace field pulse, emitted whenever Commander LaForge’s visor was activated in proximity to Worf, had intensified the quantum flux that sent him travelling through realities. But we have no LaForge and no visor, and there was nothing on board that shuttle that would have emitted a subspace field pulse.  
  
After a quick lunch at my desk, I send Tuvok back to the bridge and continue working on my own. The best hypothesis I can come up with is that, when _Voyager_ activated the emergency transport to beam us out of the breaching shuttle, the transporter beam somehow interacted with the subspace flux in the quantum fissure to direct me into this alternate reality. But there seems to be no explanation for why it only affected me, and not Chakotay.  
  
_Chakotay_.  
  
I push thoughts of him ruthlessly aside and contact engineering, but B’Elanna’s team has nothing substantial to report. I explain my transporter theory and Seven opines that another transporter activation within the quantum rift might produce the same effect, but is unable to state whether it would send me back to my own universe or to yet another parallel reality. She also points out that sending me back into the rift in another shuttle would likely initiate another warp core overload, and this time they might not be lucky enough to pull me out in time.  
  
I tell her I’m not willing to abandon the idea, and Seven consents to investigate further.  
  
Alpha shift ends and Tuvok appears in my ready room, politely requesting I vacate the bridge and return to my quarters to rest; when I pull rank, he calmly replies that he will leave me alone if the Doctor will agree to give me a clean bill of health. As I’ve already been badgered by the Doctor several times over the course of the day, reminding me with increasing irritation that I’m supposed to be on bed rest, I grumpily pack up my PADDs.  
  
My step falters as I approach the quarters my counterpart shares with Chakotay. On the verge of entering, I stop and press the chime instead.  
  
“Enter,” he says.  
  
I step over the threshold.  
  
He comes out of the bedroom and stuffs a few things into the open bag on the table, sparing me a quick glance. “I thought it might be best if I stay somewhere else for the night,” he says.  
  
“You don’t have to move out. These are your quarters, not mine.”  
  
Chakotay zips up the bag and straightens, facing me. “It’s all right, Captain,” he says, his voice gentle. “This is unnerving enough for you as it is. You should at least be in familiar surroundings.”  
  
I turn away, unable to hold his gaze. “Always looking after me,” I murmur, half under my breath.  
  
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He slings the bag over his shoulder and walks past me, turning at the door. “I’ll be bunking in the spare quarters on deck six if you need to reach me. Good night, Captain.”  
  
“Good night,” I whisper.  
  
Then I’m left alone in a room full of memories that aren’t mine.  
  
I replicate something light for dinner and take it to the table, pulling a monitor toward me. It only takes a moment or two of wrestling with my conscience before I give in.  
  
“Computer,” I request, “activate personal log, Kathryn Janeway. Find and display all logs relating to New Earth.”  
  
=/\=  
  
My head rests in my hands, fingers rubbing small circles on my aching temples. A glass of wine and a half-empty bottle sit within easy reach beside me. I’ve taken off my jacket and turtleneck, kicked off my boots. At some point in the evening I gravitated to the couch, too tired to hold myself upright in that straight-backed chair while I watched the logs of the woman I could have been, if I’d made different choices.  
  
If I’d been different.  
  
I’ve never been one to unburden myself in my personal logs – they are, after all, ship’s records, and the ‘personal’ tag has never stopped Starfleet Command from accessing a crewmember’s log when it deems necessary. In that, the Captain Janeway of this universe is no different. But I know her – she is, after all, me – and as circumspect as her logs have been, I know exactly what she’s thinking and feeling but not saying.  
  
I’ve watched her logs from the day she and her Chakotay were rescued from that paradise planet, right up until the one she recorded yesterday before I usurped her place, and one thing is achingly, spectacularly clear.  
  
She loves him.  
  
In the log she recorded on their return from New Earth, she looks brittle, dazed, as though she’s on the verge of cracking. It makes me wonder if I looked that way, too. She says she and her first officer became close while stranded on the planet. She says she expects it will be difficult to adjust to their return to _Voyager_. I don’t remember saying anything particularly different in my first log after we got back.  
  
But it _was_ different for us. We may have come close, but unlike them, we never crossed that barrier.  
  
I wonder what tipped the balance for her, that other me? A slightly more lingering gaze, a touch, a few altered words in a legend? Because, looking back, I suspect that’s all it would have taken for me.  
  
Sometime later, that other Kathryn Janeway also changed her mind. It’s clear to me – from the pinched and haunted look to her – that on their return to _Voyager_ , she and her Chakotay also broke off whatever had come to life between them. On my second viewing of her logs, I intuit that the moment it changed must have occurred when they went back in time to the real Earth. Something happened that made her stop pushing him away. In her first log after those events, she’s excited, on a high from being among humans again, but it’s more than that. She looks at peace.  
  
I replay her log from Stardate 50525, just after the alien that looked like my father tried to entice me – her – into his matrix. Her face is schooled, composed, but she can’t hide the sparkle in her eyes. _Chakotay asked me to marry him_ , she says, and then the smile she can’t suppress lights up her face like a sunrise. _I said yes. There will no doubt be opinions on this, when we get home, but I want this with all my heart. If Command sees fit to reprimand me for my decision, I’ll willingly accept their censure. It will be worth it_.  
  
They were married a few days later, according to her logs, by the local authorities on a friendly M-class planet. Almost the entire crew was in attendance, and Tuvok stood up with her in her father’s place.  
  
In the log she recorded yesterday, she implies that they’ve been discussing whether to have children.  
  
I down my glass of wine and get up to pace, restless. I don’t know what to think.  
  
After they were married, she and her Chakotay instituted a new command protocol, enabling the second officer and the CMO to relieve one or both of them of command if, in certain circumstances, it was agreed their personal attachment had compromised their ability to lead the ship. It’s a wise move, I think, though that other captain seems confident it’s an unnecessary one. I wonder how she can be so sure, so certain she would able to order her husband on a suicide mission, or that he would be able to put the good of the ship above her personal safety.  
  
I wonder if I could be so sure.  
  
And what about my first officer? Could he make the hard call, if it came down to it? If my life was weighed against the lives of the crew, would he make the right decision?  
  
“Janeway to Chakotay.”  
  
I’ve already activated my commbadge before I even knew what I was going to do.  
  
~Chakotay here, Captain. What can I do for you?~  
  
I hesitate, and my gaze flicks to the chronometer. It’s almost midnight – surely too late to be summoning him for _this_ kind of conversation.  
  
~Kathryn,~ he says over the commlink. ~Are you all right?~  
  
“I – never mind, Commander. It’s late. I’m sorry to bother you.”  
  
Something he hears in my voice makes him answer, ~I’ll be right there.~  
  
Minutes later he’s at the door, dressed in civvies and smoothing his rumpled hair.  
  
“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”  
  
“No.” He gives me a small, tight smile. “Sleep isn’t coming easily tonight.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, pointlessly, and wave him in. “Wine?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“I’ve been watching her personal logs,” I blurt when we’re seated, figuring that now he’s here, I might as well get the answers to the questions I’m burning to ask.  
  
He waits while I fidget, working out what to ask first.  
  
“What happened on New Earth?”  
  
Immediately I cringe, my hands coming up to hide the burn in my cheeks. To my surprise, when I look at him, he’s smiling.  
  
“I told her a story,” he begins, his eyes far away.  
  
“About an angry warrior, and a woman who led a neighbouring tribe?”  
  
“Yes,” he says, looking up in surprise. “You know it?”  
  
“I’ve heard it,” I mumble.  
  
“But you’re not –” He stops. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”  
  
Yes, it is, really, but I hold myself back from telling him so.  
  
“I told her she’d helped me find peace in myself, and that I made a vow to lighten her burdens. She reached out and held my hand. Then I told her I loved her, and she kissed me. She said she loved me too, and then we…” He breaks off, catching my shocked gaze. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“That part,” I clench my fingers in my lap, “didn’t happen in my timeline. You – he never said he loved me.”  
  
His voice is so quiet I almost don’t hear him. “Can you possibly believe that he doesn’t?”  
  
Instead of answering, I tell him that in my reality, the story ended with the warrior finding peace. That I clasped his hand across the table, and that after a moment I got up and went to bed. Alone. And that we never spoke of it again.  
  
What I don’t tell him is that over the days and weeks following that night, I found myself no longer able to pretend I only felt friendship for him. I realised I’d been lying to myself for months, since long before we were stranded. I was holding my breath, waiting for the perfect moment to turn to him, to kiss him, to tell him I wasn’t afraid anymore of what was happening between us. That moment never came.  
  
He’s quiet for a while after I finish telling him the things that never happened between us. “What are you to each other now?” he asks eventually.  
  
“Now?”  
  
I think about how to describe the way he and I are, the way our friendship slowly began to sour after Riley Frazier, how it all but disintegrated after the Borg and Species 8472.  
  
“The commander and I have a good working relationship,” I answer.  
  
“Don’t you even call him by his name?”  
  
I have to close my eyes and clench my fists at the desolation in his voice. “Yes. Sometimes.”  
  
“I see,” he says. “So you’re not even friends?”  
  
“Of course we’re friends,” I snap, defensively. “We’re just – a little estranged, right now.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
I sigh. “Things have been difficult. We argued, badly, over the Borg alliance. And Seven takes up a lot of my time and energy. He never wanted her on board.”  
  
Chakotay tugs on his ear. “To be honest, my Kathryn and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye on that, either.”  
  
“How did you get through it?”  
  
“We tried not to let the job bleed over into our marriage. We agreed to remember what’s important.” He shrugs. “We just do our best, I guess. Like any other couple.”  
  
“You’re lucky.”  
  
“We are,” he agrees. “But we work hard at it, too.”  
  
“How do you…” I bite my lip. “How do you reconcile knowing that she might have to send you on dangerous missions? Or that one of you might have to let the other die to save the ship?”  
  
He turns his body toward me, reaches for my hands. I should pull away, but I don’t. The contact grounds me, and right now I need that.  
  
And I don’t need to keep him at arm’s length, the way I do with my – with the Chakotay from my reality.  
  
“We talked about that,” he says, softly. “It was one of her greatest fears that she’d lose me on a mission she ordered me to lead. And she was afraid I might not be able to choose the ship over her, if it came to that.” He squeezes my hands gently. “In the end, we decided it was worth the risk. If one of us lost the other, at least we wouldn’t regret wasting the time we had together.”  
  
That’s all it takes. Tears well up in my eyes and I squeeze them shut before any can spill over. My throat aches and I can’t look at him.  
  
“Oh, Kathryn.” His voice is so gentle as he brushes a thumb over my cheekbone. “When you get home, promise me you’ll be open to something more between you. You’ve seen what you could be to each other. Don’t let yourself wake up one day and realise all you have left is regret.”  
  
=/\=  
  
I can’t make any such promise, of course. This Chakotay is not my first officer, and I am not the same woman he married. And even if I could be, it may well be too late. I don’t even know if what he feels for me now is anything close to the way he evidently used to.  
  
The possibility of what we could once have been hurts, though, and I toss and turn for hours in that bed after he’s gone.  
  
I’m up early the next morning, so after quickly downing a coffee I head straight down to engineering to check on B’Elanna’s team. I’m unsurprised to find that she and Seven have pulled an all-nighter. They’ve been working on the theory that _Voyager_ could direct a subspace differential pulse into the fissure in hope of detecting the quantum signature of the other universe, and Seven had an idea sometime in the early hours of the morning that aligning the frequency of a transporter beam to the pulse might allow me to transport back to my own reality. It’s still theoretical but it has promise, so I roll up my sleeves and pitch in.  
  
By midday, we’ve run a dozen successful simulations and we’re ready to give it a trial run. Chakotay leaves Tuvok in charge of the bridge and joins us in the transporter room. A bio-container sits on the transporter pad while B’Elanna finishes modifying the targeting scanners, then nods to me. “We’re ready.”  
  
“Do it,” I order.  
  
Seven, at the auxiliary station, activates the differential pulse. “I am detecting a breach in the quantum rift,” she reports. “Scanning for quantum signatures…” A few moments later, she says, “I have located the quantum signature that matches Captain Janeway’s.”  
  
I nod to B’Elanna.  
  
“Energising,” she says. “The matter stream is entering the rift. It’s destabilising.”  
  
“Adjust the annular confinement beam.” I’m standing over her shoulder, eyes glued to the console.  
  
“Compensating for the quantum flux… Transport complete, Captain.”  
  
“Location?”  
  
“As far as I can tell it’s exactly where it’s supposed to be, but the breach isn’t stable, Captain. I can’t absolutely guarantee we hit the mark.”  
  
I rub absently at my temple. “Let’s incorporate a homing beacon into another bio-container and try it again. We need to be sure.”  
  
“Captain,” Chakotay interrupts, eyes on me, “may I see you for a moment?”  
  
I give him a short nod and follow him out of the transporter room.  
  
“Headache?” he asks as we pace along the corridor.  
  
“Mm,” I answer non-committally.  
  
“You haven’t eaten yet today, have you?”  
  
I give him a mild glare.  
  
He takes me by the elbow and steers me into the turbolift. “Deck two.”  
  
“I don’t have time for lunch, Commander.”  
  
“Make time,” he returns. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he grins, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sometimes that works on her.”  
  
“I’m not her,” I retort, but as we step out onto deck two, I don’t object as he steers me into the mess hall.  
  
Neelix’s special is actually quite edible today. We eat mostly in silence, each of us preoccupied with thoughts we don’t care to share. As we walk back to the transporter room, Chakotay’s steps slow.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
He checks that the hallway is empty, then faces me. “From what I’ve gathered, even if you’re successful in returning to your own universe, there’s no guarantee that my Kathryn will return to mine.”  
  
I meet his gaze. “No, there isn’t. This is a theoretical science, Chakotay. It’s not like we have a lot of experience with alternate quantum realities.”  
  
“You could stay here,” he says quietly.  
  
“You know I can’t do that.” I stare at him. “It would contaminate the timeline in my universe, as well as yours.”  
  
He scrubs his hand over his forehead. “I know. And I want my Kathryn back, desperately. I’m just afraid…”  
  
“What?” My hand rests on his arm. He looks down at it.  
  
“What if I lose you both?”  
  
It’s my turn to glance both ways, making sure the corridor is still empty. It is, so I lean up and press my lips to his cheek. He folds his arms around me and for a brief moment I close my eyes, drinking in the feel and the scent of him. Then he loosens his hold and I step back.  
  
“Let’s go,” I say quietly, and we enter the transporter room.  
  
B’Elanna looks up from the transporter controls. “The homing beacon transmitted a signal for a moment before the breach went into a state of flux again. It confirmed the transport was successfully completed and the bio-container rematerialised in the other quantum universe. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be, Captain.”  
  
“The rift is continuing to fluctuate,” Seven points out. “There is still a risk that another transport will not reach the desired coordinates.”  
  
“It’s a risk we have to take,” I decide, stepping onto the platform. I nod to B’Elanna. “Energise when ready.”  
  
“Initiating transport,” she replies.  
  
As the beam takes hold of me I turn one last time to Chakotay, our gazes locking through the mist of dematerialisation. Something passes between us – acknowledgement, affirmation? – and then, as the image of him fades, a blank, horrific agony takes hold of me, and everything goes dark.


	4. Things We Lost On The Way

**4\. Things We Lost On the Way - Chakotay (II)**  
**Stardate 51133.4**  
  
_Nobody gets through life without losing a few things on the way._  
  
  
I wake up swinging.  
  
Firm hands grasp me by the wrists as a voice speaks to me urgently, but it’s not until I feel the hiss of a hypospray and the cool soak of the sedative blurring my veins that I finally stop struggling. My breath is still coming in harsh gasps, but my eyes are gradually coming into focus.  
  
“You’re safe, Commander,” the Doctor has been saying to me, over and over, I realise. “You’re in sickbay. You’re all right.”  
  
A shudder passes through me. “What’s happened?” I manage. “Have the Borg taken the ship?”  
  
“The Borg?” Doc stares at me, then exchanges a glance with Ayala, who I now realise is standing on the other side of my biobed.  
  
_Ayala_.  
  
He’s alive.  
  
I’m no longer in that reality – the reality in which I watched Kathryn assimilated in front of me.  
  
I jerk upright again at the awfulness of that memory, then hold my hands up as Ayala steps forward. “Stand down, Lieutenant. I’m okay.”  
  
I’m home.  
  
I pass a shaky hand over my face, take a deep breath, and ask, “Where’s the captain? Is she all right?”  
  
“The captain is on the bridge,” the Doctor replies. “And as far as I know, she’s perfectly fine.”  
  
“What am I doing here?”  
  
“You materialised in transporter room one in a highly agitated state and were immediately transported here, where I sedated you. What happened on the planet, Commander?”  
  
“Planet?”  
  
“Yes. The planet you and Crewman Carlson were surveying. Your shuttle ran into trouble and you both had to be extracted. You’ll be pleased to know that the shuttle has been retrieved without irreparable damage.”  
  
“I haven’t been planetside for weeks,” I tell the Doctor slowly. “And the shuttle was destroyed.”  
  
The Doc frowns, picking up his tricorder and scanning me. “Hmm,” he says, then turns his head aside and calls, “Kes, bring me the neural scanner.”  
  
My heart takes a pogo-leap into my stomach.  
  
_Kes?_  
  
“Doctor, forget about my brain. You need to scan me at the cellular level. I’m pretty sure you’ll find that my quantum signature is incompatible with this plane of reality.”  
  
Doc’s eyebrows climb into where his hairline should be. “Interesting,” he mutters, adjusting his tricorder.  
  
Kes appears at his side, her sweet face creased with concern, and I can’t help it – I reach for her hand. “It’s so good to see you,” I tell her softly.  
  
“Thank you, Commander,” she says in surprise, then cocks her head to one side, her blue eyes sharpening with understanding. “Doctor, the commander is correct. He’s from another _Voyager_. Another universe.”  
  
The Doctor finishes scanning me and snaps his tricorder shut. “So it seems. Do you have any idea how this happened, Commander?”  
  
“Some. But I think the captain should hear this, too.” I tap my commbadge. “Chakotay to Janeway.”  
  
~Janeway here.~  
  
“Captain, would you come to sickbay, please?”  
  
There’s a brief hesitation, then she replies, ~On my way.~  
  
She enters moments later, and when I look at her all I can see is her double’s eyes in the instant that the nanoprobes took her from me. My heart lurches again and I have to swallow hard and clamp my fists around the edge of the bed to stop my hands from shaking. She glances at me for a moment, then turns her attention to the EMH.  
  
“Report, Doctor.”  
  
“Commander Chakotay claims he is from an alternate universe, Captain. According to my scans, he is correct.” It’s about as succinct as the Doctor ever gets.  
  
Kathryn’s gaze finds me again, and something chills me. The coolness, the sheer _disinterest_ in it makes my stomach tighten.  
  
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look at me like that before.  
  
“Explain, Commander,” she orders, folding her arms.  
  
“We were on an away mission yesterday,” I begin – _God, was it only yesterday?_ – “surveying an M-class planet. Our shuttle encountered a quantum rift and the warp core overloaded. I lost consciousness, and when I woke up I was in an alternate reality.”  
  
Her mouth tightens. Still watching me, she asks abruptly, “Doctor, have you scanned him for neural damage?”  
  
My chin jerks back.  
  
Even the Doctor appears disconcerted at what I can only describe as the contempt lacing her tone. “I was about to, Captain, but then the commander supplied me with this alternative explanation, which I confirmed.”  
  
“Do it anyway,” she says.  
  
I start to speak, but she raises her hand and turns away from me. “Now, Doctor.”  
  
Anger starts to build in me, and I tamp it down with effort. “I’m not brain-damaged, Captain. I’m telling you what happened. I was on another _Voyager_ in another quantum universe. And now I’ve somehow appeared in yet another version of reality.”  
  
The Doctor finishes his scan. “No sign of neural trauma, Captain.”  
  
She nods. “You’re excused, Doctor.”  
  
The EMH backs away, followed by Kes.  
  
Kathryn stalks up to my biobed, and needing the security of feeling my feet on the ground, I stand to face her.  
  
“Do you have any theories about how you’ve apparently managed to travel between quantum realities, Commander?”  
  
“Possibly,” I answer, staring down at her. “Are you willing to listen to them?”  
  
“Oh, I’m always willing to _listen_ to you, Commander,” she fires back, and the sheer venom in her voice makes my mouth go dry. “Even when it goes against my better judgment.”  
  
It’s then that I understand. Something in this universe has gone horribly wrong between this Kathryn and her Chakotay, and she’s far too angry with him to distinguish me from that other version of me.  
  
I’ve got my anger under control, though, so I keep my voice even when I answer her. “Captain, could we continue this discussion elsewhere?” I glance over at the Doctor’s office, where he and Kes have wisely retreated.  
  
She nods sharply. “My ready room.”  
  
She’s silent in the turbolift, but I can practically feel the ice crackling from her. It’s no better when we enter the ready room and she flicks her hand toward the couch, clearly bidding me to sit. She, however, remains standing. It strikes me that this version of Kathryn needs, and uses, every tool available to her to distance herself from me. To remind me – him – of that distance.  
  
I think about my Kathryn, about the tenuous grip we currently have on our friendship, and I wonder what it would take to tip the scales into the kind of cold war these two are apparently waging.  
  
It scares me.  
  
_She’s not my Kathryn._  
  
“Well, Commander, this silence is very restful, but I’m quite busy at the moment, so unless you’re going to start talking soon…”  
  
I drag my wandering mind back to the woman standing in front of me. “Sorry, Captain. I’m a little unsettled.” Gathering my thoughts, I launch right into it. “In my universe, you and I were on our way to an uninhabited planet to find food supplies. We ran into a quantum fissure. It caused a warp core breach.”  
  
“And somehow, as you say, you ended up in a different universe?” She almost looks bored.  
  
“I think it has something to do with the transporters.” I try to keep my voice even, calm. “Just before the core breach, we contacted _Voyager_ to let them know we were in trouble. I lost consciousness, but if I know Tuvok at all, he would have ordered us beamed out immediately. And when I appeared in this universe, it was immediately after another transport attempt.”  
  
I decide it’s unnecessary to tell her, at this point, that it was a Borg transporter beam that sent me here. That somewhere out there, another _Voyager_ , another crew, is being assimilated as we speak.  
  
“I see,” she clips out. “This is an interesting diversion, Commander, but I fail to see the point –”  
  
“I’m not making this up, Kathryn,” I snap, rising from my seat.  
  
Instantly she steps up to me, eyes flashing steel. “You’ll address me as _Captain_.”  
  
I stare at her. I don’t know what to say.  
  
“What happened between you two?” I can’t help asking. “In my reality, you and I are friends. We’ve had our differences, especially recently, but –”  
  
“You know very well what happened,” she says, her voice deadly quiet. “You wilfully disobeyed my orders. You deliberately chose a course of action counter to my intentions as soon as I was out of commission. You conspired against me with members of the senior staff. In the Alpha quadrant you’d have been court-martialled for mutiny, _Chakotay_.”  
  
The bitter emphasis she places on my name when she speaks it for the first time is as galling as her accusations.  
  
And then I understand.  
  
“You made a deal with the devil,” I murmur, half to myself. “And it failed.”  
  
“It _failed_ ,” she fires back, her voice dropping even lower, “because _you didn’t trust me_.”  
  
“ _Kathryn_.” I step up, catching her cold hands in mine – and it’s so _her_ that she neither stiffens nor flinches – pitching my voice to a level of urgency that _my_ Kathryn would never - could never - ignore. “I’m not him. Whatever he did, _it wasn’t me_.” I stare at her, willing her to believe me. “And there’s nobody I trust more than you.”  
  
For the first time, a flicker of doubt clouds her eyes.  
  
“I countermanded her orders, yes,” I continue, willing her to understand, “because I felt I had no other option. The Borg demanded we reverse course and finish building the weapon. I refused, and the alliance fell apart. But it was a tactical decision I made based on the situation at hand. There was never a moment when I didn’t trust her judgment.”  
  
She searches my eyes.  
  
“And yes, she was angry with me when she woke up and discovered we were in fluidic space and no longer had Borg protection from Species 8472,” I finish. “But we came up with a solution together. There was no mutiny.”  
  
Fractionally, her shoulders relax. Now that I’m certain she’s listening, I loosen her hands, and they drop to her sides.  
  
“And what was that solution?” she asks, her entire attention focused on me as though it’s the most important question she’ll ever ask.  
  
“We engaged the aliens in their realm and destroyed a number of them using the nanoprobe weapons. Seven of Nine opened a quantum singularity and returned us to normal space, and then we disconnected her from the Collective using a neural link.” I pause. “She’s becoming an asset to the crew, thanks to you – I mean, the other Kathryn Janeway. Nobody else would have believed she could recover her humanity, but you wouldn’t give up on her.”  
  
“Seven of Nine? The Borg drone?” She stares at me. “She joined your crew?”  
  
“Yes. What happened in this universe?”  
  
She hesitates, then puts a hand up to her head – a familiar gesture, and one that I recognise she uses to stall for time. “I’ll need a coffee for this,” she sighs. “Tea?”  
  
“Please.”  
  
She keys in the order for our drinks in silence then brings them over to the couch. Her expression would appear serene to anyone who doesn’t know her as well as I do, doesn’t study her closely enough to note the tell-tale tightness around her eyes. She takes a couple of bolstering sips and places her cup decisively on the low table.  
  
“After I was injured on the Borg cube,” she begins, “the alliance disintegrated, much as it did in your reality, I assume. The drones attempted to disable _Voyager_ and Commander Chakotay spaced them – _all_ of them, including Seven of Nine. They never had a chance to open a singularity into fluidic space, and we never engaged Species 8472. But the Borg sent two cubes after us immediately, and we were forced to flee.”  
  
She gives me an even look. “Fortunately for us, the aliens attacked those cubes and we escaped. We set a course away from Borg space. Our last sensor readings indicated that Species 8472 was overpowering the Collective.”  
  
“And the conspiracy?” I have to ask. “The mutiny?”  
  
“Yes. That.” She picks up her coffee cup, drinks, sets it down with a _click_. “I decided the best course of action was to re-establish the alliance with the Borg. They were weakened and desperate. We had them at an advantage.” She meets my eyes. “The commander disagreed. He believed the Borg were more likely to assimilate us, and the weapons technology, immediately. He argued that we should find another way home.”  
  
“One that circumnavigated Borg space?” That would have added dozens of years to their journey, and that’s a fact that must have churned inside her like bile.  
  
“I refused. The commander convinced Tuvok and the Doctor to examine me for psychological unfitness to command.”  
  
I can’t help the jerk of my hand at that, the involuntary recoil. Would I have done that, in his place? And if _he_ did it, did he understand what it would do to her? To _them_?  
  
Of course he did. He’s me.  
  
“I was placed on involuntary medical leave for three days. The commander ordered the crew to scan for a planet suitable for permanent resettlement.” She stares at me, and I see the banked fury in her eyes, the soul-deep hurt behind it. “When I returned to duty, I was forced to compromise. I agreed to continue on our course around Borg space with the proviso that if we came across a nice comfortable M-class planet, _Voyager_ ’s crew would make it their permanent home.”  
  
It cuts deep. Almost as deeply as it cuts her. Not because I disagree with that other Chakotay’s ultimatum, but because I understand it. Could even, in the same circumstances, condone it.  
  
But to do that to _her_. To take that away from her – her ship, her one and only goal – well. Now I’m beginning to see why she’s so angry.  
  
“What about Kes?” I ask. “In my timeline, her encounters with Species 8472 hyperstimulated her telepathic abilities. She …” I’m not sure how to explain it. I try, “She became something more. A non-corporeal being. In the process of leaving my _Voyager_ , she threw the ship clear of Borg space, ten years closer to the Alpha quadrant. But she’s still here, in your reality.”  
  
“You lost your Kes?” For the first time I see an emotion other than hurt or anger in this Kathryn’s eyes. Clearly, she’s as close to her Kes as my captain was to ours. And given her loss of trust in her two right-hand men, her former friends and allies, I wonder if she relies on Kes even more than my Kathryn did.  
  
I nod.  
  
The breath she takes in borders on a shudder. “Kes has been experiencing some unusually heightened abilities since we met Species 8472. Telekinesis, telepathy… She knew about you right away, didn’t she?”  
  
“Apparently so.”  
  
I see it, the fear that her Kes will be taken from her in the same way, and hard on the heels of that the realisation that in my timeline, thanks to Kes, we not only made our escape from the Borg but managed to get so much closer to home. A home that, for her, is fast becoming a failed and distant dream.  
  
“All right,” she says eventually, fighting back the emotions I can see in her eyes. “All right, I believe you. So you said you think these quantum shifts occur when you undergo a transport. I’d like you to work with B’Elanna to see if there’s a way to determine exactly where another transport attempt would send you to. Perhaps we can direct the beam to your home universe.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
She stands, and I stand with her. “I’ll call a senior staff briefing and inform them of your situation,” she says, turning for the door.  
  
“Kathryn, wait.”  
  
She stops, looks up at me.  
  
I’m not sure she’ll even want to hear this, but I have to try. “I just want you to know that disobeying your orders, undermining your authority – he would not have done that lightly. He would have believed it was the only option. And he’d have done it for the ship.” I soften my voice. “He never would have wanted to hurt you. If I know him at all, it’s got to be poisoning him inside.”  
  
She looks stricken. “It doesn’t matter, though, does it?” she almost whispers. “It’s done, and nothing can change that. He took my _ship_ , and I can never trust him again. Him or Tuvok or the Doctor.”  
  
And she’s right: nothing can change it. So I nod, and she lets the command mask settle over her pained, exquisite features, and pivots on her heel.  
  
=/\=  
  
“Okay,” B’Elanna says, her fingers drumming on the conference table. “So somewhere out there is a quantum fissure, and it’s interacting with the transporters in some way that’s causing Chakotay to shift realities.” She almost looks exasperated when she levels her stare at me. “You know, it was supposed to be my day off tomorrow. I had holodeck time booked.”  
  
“Sorry.” I can’t help grinning.  
  
“Oh, what the hell,” she mutters. “It makes a change from kicking your ass at hoverball.”  
  
“Captain,” Tuvok interrupts. “I believe studying the Starfleet database could assist. The _Enterprise_ encountered a similar anomaly several years ago. One of their crewmembers also experienced shifting quantum states.”  
  
“Of course.” Kathryn’s eyes light up. Scientific mystery – the only thing I’ve seen bring back the Kathryn I know; the Kathryn she must have been before her two closest friends backhanded her. “I’ll study the logs in my ready room. Harry, scan for the quantum rift and transfer all sensor data to my console. Tom, you have the bridge. Dismissed.”  
  
She’s halfway out the door before anyone gathers enough wits to speak. I catch Tom and Harry exchanging a look that’s full of trepidation.  
  
Tuvok rises from his seat. “Captain, I am currently scheduled for bridge duty.”  
  
She barely bothers to glance at him over her shoulder. “Good. You can assist Harry with his scans, then. Stations, people.”  
  
And she’s gone, leaving behind her a roomful of stunned disbelief.  
  
Tom’s eyes cut to Tuvok, then to me. “Uh, so, should I take the bridge, sir?” It’s not entirely clear which of us he’s asking.  
  
Tuvok appears as unflappable as ever. “That is what the captain ordered, Mr Paris. Mr Kim, perhaps we should begin by initiating scans for tachyon and chroniton particles.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Harry stumbles. He’s clearly mortified, more for Tuvok than himself. Kathryn has always been adept at the subtle reminder that she’s the one in command, but I’ve never before seen her display such casual malice.  
  
If the timelines in this universe match up with mine, it’s been six weeks since the failed Borg alliance. I’ve always known Kathryn can hold a grudge. But if she’s this angry with Tuvok and her Chakotay six weeks after the fact, I can only imagine the venom she must have been spitting right after it happened.  
  
Tuvok, naturally, takes it on the chin, merely nodding to Harry and striding, measured, past him onto the bridge. Taking his cue, I meet B’Elanna’s eyes and tilt my head at the door. She follows me silently to the turbolift.  
  
“So,” she says diffidently after I’ve called for deck eleven, “you’re not Chakotay, huh?”  
  
“Oh, I’m Chakotay. Just not the one you’re used to, I guess.”  
  
“What’s different about you?” She turns to look me up and down, her eyes frank with curiosity. “You look the same. Do you have that scar? The one from the ambush on Trelka?”  
  
I show her, and her eyebrows arch.  
  
“So I guess that means you remember that brunette you picked up at the bar after we dispatched the Cardies?”  
  
“Her name was Dalma,” I answer her. “And she was blonde.”  
  
B’Elanna nods – apparently I’ve passed her test - then grins. “Some things never change.”  
  
I send her a sour look for form’s sake as the ‘lift doors open into engineering. “Speaking of blonds,” I lower my voice, “how are things going with Paris?”  
  
“ _Tom_ Paris?” She snorts. “Exactly what _things_ are you referring to?”  
  
I raise an eyebrow at her, and she bristles. “Look, I don’t know what insanity happened in your universe, but in this one, I wouldn’t touch Tom Paris with a Ferengi energy whip.”  
  
“Whatever you say,” I answer mildly as we step onto the internal lift to the upper level. “Shall we get started, Lieutenant?”  
  
“Immediately,” she mutters, and stabs at her console.  
  
Harry comms engineering a little while later to inform us that he’s located the quantum rift, and that it appears to have somehow been breached. I’m not surprised that B’Elanna quickly confirms that the cause of the breach was the warp energy output of a Starfleet shuttle, and that the activation of a transporter was somehow, in both cases, the trigger for my shifting quantum realities.  
  
“But what about the captain?” I ask her. “She was in the _Tereshkova_ with me when we hit the quantum barrier. Why didn’t she shift realities with me?”  
  
B’Elanna stops what she’s doing and turns to me, eyes wide. “How do you know she didn’t?”  
  
“What are you talking about? She’s not here, is she?”  
  
“No,” she agrees. “But theoretically, there exists an infinite number of possible alternate universes on different planes of reality. What if she _was_ transported to one of them – but not the one you ended up in?”  
  
“She could be anywhere.” The realisation makes me swallow, hard.  
  
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about her right now,” says B’Elanna, practical to the end. “Let’s focus on figuring out how _you_ get back to your universe.”  
  
She taps her commbadge. “Torres to Janeway.”  
  
~Janeway here. I’m in the turbolift, B’Elanna. I’ll be there in a moment.~  
  
Kathryn appears at the upper-level engineering workstation a minute later, PADD in hand. “According to the _Enterprise_ ’s logs,” she launches in without preamble, “a subspace differential pulse directed at the rift might detect the quantum signature of the originating universe.”  
  
“I was just thinking the same thing,” B’Elanna says, and they share an approving glance. “It’ll take about fifteen minutes to realign the main deflector dish.”  
  
“All right. I’ll return to the bridge. Contact me when you’re ready to initiate the pulse.”  
  
With a brief nod to me, Kathryn exits.  
  
I watch B’Elanna tinkering with her console for a minute or two, until I can no longer contain myself. “I have to ask you a question.”  
  
“Shoot.”  
  
There’s no delicate way to ask this. “Whose side were you on?”  
  
B’Elanna’s fingers falter, then rest on the console. She bows her head. “You know,” she says slowly, not bothering to pretend she doesn’t know what I’m talking about, “I didn’t want to take sides. I mean, you’re my best friend on this ship. I’ve always trusted you. I’d _die_ for you.” She casts me a sidelong glance, clearly discomfited by her own emotions. “But she’s the _captain_ , Chakotay. As _you_ once pointed out.”  
  
I wait, and finally she sighs, squares her shoulders. “I followed her orders, okay? _Hers_. And I can barely even _look_ at you because of that.”  
  
To be honest, I wasn’t expecting that. B’Elanna Torres, Maquis, half-cocked half-Klingon, siding with a Starfleet captain when her own best friend - and _former_ captain – staged what effectively amounted to a – however well-intentioned - mutiny?  
  
And all I can think is, _thank the spirits Kathryn had her loyalty_. Because I’m not sure she’d still be standing if she’d been crushed under the weight of yet another betrayal.  
  
For that alone, I want to hug B’Elanna. Knowing it would embarrass her deeply, I restrain myself.  
  
“You did the right thing, Torres,” I tell her quietly.  
  
She dips her head again, but slowly her shoulders relax.  
  
“Thanks,” she answers, barely audibly.  
  
After a minute her fingers start moving on the console again. “We’re ready,” she says in her normal voice. “Torres to bridge.”  
  
~Janeway here.~  
  
“The deflector is ready to emit the pulse, Captain.”  
  
~Good work, Lieutenant. Send the data to Mr Kim’s station so we can monitor it from here.~  
  
“Transfer complete,” B’Elanna confirms. “Initiating the pulse.”  
  
We watch as the readings come in. “There,” B’Elanna says with satisfaction. “Captain, we’ve been able to detect one hundred and thirty-seven separate quantum signatures through the breach. I’ve identified the one that matches Chakotay’s.”  
  
~Well done,~ comes the reply. ~Any suggestions on how to transfer the commander back?~  
  
“Captain, if I may?” I cut in. “It’s almost 2300 hours. I suggest we start working on a plan after we’ve all had some rest.”  
  
~All right, Commander,~ she answers after a brief pause. ~Lock it down, Lieutenant. We’ll meet in the briefing room at 0800.~  
  
“Aye, Captain,” we chorus.  
  
I rest my hand on B’Elanna’s shoulder. “Thanks,” I tell her, and I mean it for more than her efforts on my behalf.  
  
“Anytime, Chakotay,” she says softly. “Good night.”  
  
I realise how exhausted I am as I walk slowly to the turbolift. Every time I close my eyes, however briefly, all I can see is Kathryn’s pale, perfect skin marbling with Borg nanoprobes and the essence of her fading from her blue eyes. The same Kathryn who kissed me so sweetly, so enticingly, will now never kiss her Chakotay again.  
  
I wonder where he is, her Chakotay. Did he somehow shift to my universe, to take my place? Will he, somehow, return to his own to find his Kathryn and his _Voyager_ lost to the Collective?  
  
And what about the Chakotay of _this_ universe – where is he? And if, by some miracle, he makes it back here – what then?  
  
I wonder if he can ever make up for his betrayal.  
  
I wonder if his captain will ever forgive him.  
  
I’ll never be able to ask him what was going through his mind when he conspired to take her command. But it occurs to me that there’s someone else I can ask.  
  
“Deck six,” I order the turbolift.  
  
“Commander Chakotay,” Tuvok greets me when he’s granted my entrance to his quarters. “How may I assist you?”  
  
He inclines his head toward a chair in silent invitation, and I take it, feeling the heaviness settle in my bones as my body moulds to its contours. Tuvok, dressed in Vulcan robes, snuffs his meditation candle and sits silently opposite me, his dark eyes waiting.  
  
“I want to know how you justified it,” I start abruptly. “What logic you used to convince yourself it was the right course of action.”  
  
He, like B’Elanna, doesn’t bother to pretend ignorance.  
  
“I assume you’re aware of the events that led to the commander’s decision to question Captain Janeway’s fitness to command.”  
  
I nod.  
  
“The captain proposed that she take a shuttle, alone, back into Borg territory to re-establish the attempted alliance. My objection to that plan was based on serious concerns for her safety.”  
  
Yes. Well, that’s not unexpected. From either of them.  
  
“However, I did not support the commander’s insistence that she report to sickbay for examination until the captain threatened to have him removed to the brig. Upon voicing my protest, the captain excused me from duty. She then ordered Lieutenant Paris to assume command of _Voyager_ and hold position on the outskirts of Borg space until she returned from her away mission, and Lieutenant Torres to download the specifications for the nanoprobe weapons into the shuttle’s computer. When I reiterated my objections, the captain ordered Lieutenant Rollins to accompany the commander and me to the brig.”  
  
“She felt that you backed her into a corner.”  
  
“Perhaps. I fail to see another course of action I could have taken.”  
  
“What happened then?”  
  
“The captain then ordered Ensign Kim to prepare the _Cochrane_ for launch. Commander Chakotay belayed that order and contacted the Doctor, requesting that he immediately transport the captain to sickbay. He did so. When the commander and I reached sickbay, it became apparent that the captain had refused a medical examination. The Doctor was attempting to reason with her, without success.”  
  
“I’m surprised she didn’t just deactivate him.”  
  
“I believe she was intending to do so. However, the commander and I arrived in time to prevent it. The commander explained the captain’s intentions to the Doctor, who invoked Medical Protocol 121, section A.”  
  
The regulation allowing the chief medical officer to relieve a captain of command due to medical unfitness or seriously impaired judgment. I imagine her reaction and can’t hide a wince. No wonder Doc appears completely cowed by her now.  
  
“The Doctor diagnosed no medical condition preventing the captain from effectively undertaking her duties. However, it was his opinion – and mine – that she was operating under an extreme level of stress, and that this was affecting her judgment.”  
  
“ _Your_ opinion?” Did that mean –  
  
“At Commander Chakotay’s request, I initiated a mind-meld with Captain Janeway.”  
  
It knocks me sideways, I don’t mind admitting. When I can speak again – and even after several minutes of struggling, my voice comes out hoarse - I ask, “With her permission?”  
  
Anyone who tells me Vulcans have no emotions can go right to hell, because the regret, the soul-deep pain I read in Tuvok’s dark eyes in that moment will live with me for the rest of my days.  
  
“The captain threatened to strip both the commander and myself of rank permanently if I proceeded. Given the disconcerting nature of her other recent statements, as well as her intention to return to Borg space alone, I judged the mind-meld a necessary action despite her strongly voiced objections.”  
  
And now I truly understand the depth of Kathryn’s bitter, aching fury. Her second in command took her ship, and her oldest friend helped himself to her inner thoughts. For someone as private, as dependent on her ability to conceal herself as she is, it’s the ultimate betrayal.  
  
“How is it that the two of you are still serving on this ship?” _Not to mention still breathing_ , I add silently.  
  
“That decision was Captain Janeway’s.”  
  
And if I’m not mistaken, the Vulcan is as surprised by that as I am. But then, when I think about it… For her, it’s always the ship and the crew that come first. Her own discomfort comes a long way down her list of priorities, and no matter how she resents them, she’d know that stripping her first and second officers of rank would unnerve the crew, perhaps cause them to lose confidence in her. And there’s no denying that Tuvok’s tactical abilities have saved this ship on many occasions. In hostile space, she’d need him.  
  
And as for me – or rather, that other Commander Chakotay – well, the unease between the Starfleet crew and the former Maquis may have been put to bed long ago, but relieving him of rank and duty would polarise the crew. Particularly if she did it out of perceived spite or anger, or a sense of personal betrayal.  
  
She’d been backed into a corner, all right. One she couldn’t fight her way out of.  
  
I can’t be here anymore. I’m not sure what I want more: to throw myself at Kathryn’s feet and apologise on behalf of her turncoat first officer, or simply smash Tuvok’s expressionless Vulcan face. I need to think. I need to sleep, but I’m not counting on that happening anytime soon.  
  
I stand, and Tuvok stands with me. A short nod is all I can manage before I move toward the door.  
  
“Commander.”  
  
I stop and wait.  
  
“It may interest you to know that the Commander Chakotay indigenous to this universe, while regretful that his personal relationship with the captain has been damaged, is still of the belief that his decision was the correct one.”  
  
“Cold comfort, Mr Tuvok,” I reply without turning my head, and I step out into the empty corridor.  
  
=/\=  
  
As expected, sleep doesn’t come easily, and when I arrive at the senior officers’ briefing in the morning, my limbs feel deadened and my eyes gritty with fatigued unease.  
  
“The transporter is definitely the key,” B’Elanna explains, hunching forward over the conference table when the captain asks for her report. “The Doctor’s scans of Chakotay showed high levels of chronitons and tachyons in his system, probably as a result of his shuttle’s warp energy creating a breach in the rift. Something about initiating a transport near the rift is interacting with those energy particles and pushing him into a state of quantum instability. Unfortunately I can’t tell you what that _something_ is, yet.”  
  
“According to the _Enterprise_ logs, Lieutenant Worf’s quantum travelling was triggered by the subspace field pulse emitted by Commander LaForge’s visor.” Kathryn taps her fingers on the table. “The transporter converts matter into energy by destabilising it at the quantum level. My guess is that conversion process is what’s causing the reality shift.”  
  
B’Elanna nods, clearly intrigued. “I could test that theory by injecting a biospecimen with chroniton and tachyon particles and transporting it into the rift. There’s no way of knowing where it would end up, though.”  
  
“It’s a place to start.” Kathryn stands. “You have my authority to pull in any extra hands you need, B’Elanna. Dismissed.”  
  
As I stand to leave, she looks up at me. “Stay a moment, Commander?”  
  
When the room is empty, she moves over to the viewport, one hand on her hip as she stares out at the stars. “Captain?” I prompt her.  
  
She doesn’t turn as she asks in a voice so hollow, so weary, it makes me want to fold her into my arms. “What would _you_ have done, Chakotay? If you were in his position.”  
  
It’s the question I’ve been torturing myself with ever since I heard her side of the story, and even more so since I listened to Tuvok’s version.  
  
“I don’t know,” I answer her honestly. “I’d like to think that you and I would have found a better way to handle it than this.”  
  
“Like you did with your version of me?” She dips her head fractionally.  
  
“The circumstances were different,” I demur. “And I’m not saying we handled it well. We lost a little faith in each other and we’re still working on getting it back. But you’re right – we didn’t let it destroy us. Neither our working relationship nor our friendship.”  
  
And if the sentiment is a little overstated, a little too sanitised – well, at least neither of us _intended_ that kind of destruction.  
  
I watch her pale hand rise to rub at her forehead. “Sometimes I wish –” she starts, then shakes her head. “Well. It’s too late now.”  
  
“It isn’t too late.” I step closer, resting my hand on her fragile shoulder. But I feel the twitch of muscles as she stiffens, drawing away from me, and it pains me to realise that for him, for them, it might be.  
  
“Well.” She turns to me with a facsimile of her practised smile. “I’m going to head down to engineering and see if B’Elanna could use a hand. Why don’t you take the bridge?”  
  
She already moving away when I answer, “Aye, Captain.”  
  
=/\=  
  
I’m wolfing down a quick dinner in the mess hall while I wait for B’Elanna’s latest report, when the ship goes to red alert.  
  
I’m halfway out the door by the time my discarded fork has finished clattering to the table. Paris, who’d been a couple of tables away with one of the Delaneys, follows hard on my heels. We share a grim and silent exchange as the turbolift rises to the bridge. Inside, my guts are churning, knowing it’s most likely the Borg.  
  
We step out onto a bridge bathed in controlled tension and a white-lipped captain. “Species 8472,” she clips out the moment our eyes meet. “A quantum singularity just opened less than a light year away. Three bioships.”  
  
“Time to intercept?” I’m already vaulting down toward my chair.  
  
“Less than ten minutes.”  
  
“The nanoprobe weapons?” I turn my attention to Tuvok’s station.  
  
“Four type-6 photon torpedoes have been modified to incorporate nanoprobes. We were unable to obtain enough nanoprobes during our brief alliance with the Borg to modify any additional warheads.”  
  
Four torpedoes. Three bioships. Even for a tactical officer of Tuvok’s efficiency, those aren’t great odds.  
  
And that’s assuming Species 8472 hasn’t already developed a defence against nanoprobe technology.  
  
“Eight minutes to intercept,” Harry reports, his voice threaded with anxiety, and I remember that he, of all of us, is fully aware of what contact with one of these aliens can do to frail human bodies.  
  
“Captain,” I turn to her, “we need to get Kes up here. The last time we engaged this species she was able to hear their thoughts. We need any kind of edge we can get right now.”  
  
She nods. I start to contact Kes, but it’s unnecessary; she’s stepping off the turbolift before I’ve finished, making her way immediately to the command level. “I can hear them,” she says urgently, her face drained of colour.  
  
Kathryn urges her to sit in the captain’s chair. “What are they saying?”  
  
“They’ve defeated the Borg,” she answers, forehead crinkling in distress. “Captain, they’re systematically seeking out all Borg technology and destroying it. They detected our weapons. They know we attempted to aid the Borg. They’re here to eliminate us.”  
  
“Can you communicate with them?” Kathryn crouches before Kes.  
  
“I think so.”  
  
“Tell them we meant no harm. We were only defending ourselves.”  
  
Kes’ face grows strained. “They don’t believe me.”  
  
“Four minutes,” Harry cuts in.  
  
“Arm torpedoes,” Kathryn snaps out. “Tom, bring us about. Prepare to initiate evasive manoeuvres at your discretion.”  
  
“They claim the Borg entered their realm and attacked them,” Kes continues, her face solemn. “They intend to purge this galaxy of inferior life forms.”  
  
“The bioships are increasing speed,” Tuvok notes. “They will now intercept us in one point six minutes.”  
  
Kathryn nods to Harry to activate the ship-wide comm system. “All hands, ready battle stations and prepare to engage Species 8472.”  
  
“All stations ready,” reports Harry.  
  
“The bioships are within firing range,” Tuvok says. “They are charging weapons.”  
  
“Initiating evasive manoeuvre alpha-three,” Tom calls, and we lurch starboard. _Voyager_ shudders under a glancing blow.  
  
“The energy discharge impacted the secondary hull on decks eight and nine. Shields weakening.”  
  
“Tuvok, target the nearest bioship with one torpedo,” Kathryn bites out. “Fire when ready.”  
  
We watch as a direct hit takes out one of the alien ships. The other two swing around to flank us.  
  
“Take them out,” Kathryn orders.  
  
Two torpedoes lance out of _Voyager_ ’s tubes. One scores a minor hit on the ship to port. The other misses.  
  
I exchange a glance with Kathryn. Our odds just grew dire.  
  
“Phasers,” I order Tuvok. “Keep them distracted. Paris, try manoeuvring us into a better position. We’ll need to take them both out with one shot.”  
  
“Aye,” he mutters, fingers blurring over the helm console. “Tricky bastards.”  
  
I turn to the captain, keeping my voice low. “We’re going to need more than this.”  
  
“Any suggestions?”  
  
“Only one.” I meet her eye. “Transport me to a shuttle. I’ll pilot it directly into one of the ships and overload the warp core. Tuvok can take out the other.”  
  
Something flickers in the depths of her eyes. She knows exactly what that means.  
  
Still holding my gaze, she says quietly, “Ensign Kim. Lock onto the commander’s commbadge and prepare to transport him directly to the _Drake_.”  
  
I nod at her. “It’s been an honour, Captain.”  
  
“The honour is mine, Commander.” She holds herself straight, never wavering.  
  
“Energise,” I order Harry, and as the bridge disappears around me, I’m mentally reviewing every step of the suicide mission I’m about to undertake… but before I can rematerialise inside the shuttlecraft, I’m ripped apart by agonising pain. As I lose consciousness, my last despairing thought is the realisation that I’ve failed to save her – save all of them – again.


	5. Words That Wound

**5\. Words That Wound - Janeway (II)**  
**Stardate 51135.9**  
  
_The view changes from where you are standing. Words can wound, and wounds can heal. All of these things are true._  
  
  
I wake up in sickbay. Again.  
  
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Captain,” the EMH says cheerily. “How do you feel?”  
  
“My head is killing me,” I answer abruptly.  
  
“Hardly surprising. You were unconscious when you materialised in the transporter room. Any idea what happened?”  
  
“Not yet. How long was I out?”  
  
“About half an hour.” He waves his tricorder at me. “You seem to be recovered, at any rate. I’ll give you an analgesic for your headache.”  
  
“Where’s my commbadge?”  
  
The Doctor hands it to me and I activate it. “Janeway to Chakotay.”  
  
~Yes, Captain?~  
  
“Please report to sickbay.”  
  
~On my way.~  
  
The Doctor presses a hypospray to my neck and I sigh in relief as my headache abates. I collect my uniform from the cabinet beside my biobed and slip behind a privacy screen to put it on. I’m buttoned up and ready by the time Chakotay arrives in sickbay.  
  
“Ship’s status, Commander?”  
  
“All systems are at peak efficiency, Captain.”  
  
He stands at ease, hands loosely clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed politely on my face. Something makes me search his eyes.  
  
There’s something … He doesn’t look right. He’s not looking at me like he should.  
  
“Are you all right, Chakotay?”  
  
“Yes, Captain.” Delivered crisply, with the faintest tinge of surprise.  
  
_Okay then_ … “I’d like B’Elanna’s report on the quantum rift as soon as possible. Could you have her bring it to my ready room, please?”  
  
He focuses on me properly. “Captain?”  
  
“And let Tuvok know we’ll need to seal it to prevent further incidents. The _Enterprise_ initiated a broad-spectrum warp field to seal the phenomenon they encountered.”  
  
He doesn’t answer at first, just stares at me. Then he turns to the Doctor, who’s already making his way over to us, tricorder at the ready. They exchange a silent look and the Doctor begins to scan me.  
  
“There’s no evidence of tampering with her memory engrams,” he mutters. “No neural trauma. I can’t explain it, Commander.”  
  
“Explain what?” I demand, but I’m pretty sure I already know.  
  
“Captain.” Chakotay moves a step closer to me, and in his eyes I read confusion and – is that _suspicion?_ “Tuvok was killed two months ago when the holoprogram he designed to train junior security officers malfunctioned. Don’t you remember? Seska had it booby-trapped. She rigged the holodeck grid to overload. Tuvok and Tom were killed in the explosion.”  
  
It hurts. Oh, God, it hurts.  
  
“Doctor.” I keep my voice even. “Please initiate a cellular-level scan. Look for evidence that my quantum signature is inconsistent with this universe.”  
  
“You’re correct, Captain,” the EMH says when he’s finished. “Would you care to fill me in?”  
  
“Let’s save some time. Commander, I’d like you to call a senior staff briefing in thirty minutes.”  
  
“Aye, Captain,” he says immediately, and I watch with no small sense of shock as he simply walks away.  
  
No insistence that I explain my situation right here, right now. No poorly-hidden concern for me. No chaste, soothing touch to my hand or my shoulder – the touch he so often uses to convey that he’s there for me.  
  
This, it’s plain as day, is not my Chakotay.  
  
=/\=  
  
They’re already assembled in the conference room when I arrive. Chakotay, B’Elanna, Harry, the Doctor, Seven of Nine… It appears that Lieutenant Rollins has succeeded Tuvok’s position, and Ensign Jenkins is the new chief conn officer. It’s hard to look at them.  
  
“Approximately forty-eight hours ago, I regained consciousness in sickbay,” I begin. “I soon discovered” - _not soon enough_ , my inner voice reminds me, and I’m trying hard not to colour as I remember the events preceding my awareness - “that I’d travelled to an alternate reality as a result of an encounter with a quantum fissure.”  
  
“How?” B’Elanna asks bluntly.  
  
“In my originating universe I was on a mission with Commander Chakotay. Our shuttlecraft entered a quantum rift, and the energy field emitted by the shuttle’s warp engines created a breach that appears to have broken down the barriers between quantum states. As a result, I’ve been shifting between universes. This is the second parallel reality I’ve experienced since I encountered the phenomenon.”  
  
“I heard about something like this during my final year at the Academy,” Harry says, leaning forward enthusiastically. “The _Enterprise_ ’s security chief ended up travelling into alternate universes thanks to a similar phenomenon. If I remember right, each shift was triggered by the chief engineer’s visor emitting a subspace field pulse.”  
  
“I believe my quantum shifts are being instigated by the activation of a transporter beam. Both shifts have occurred immediately after I’ve attempted to transport somewhere.” I look at B’Elanna. “In the previous reality I visited, we were attempting to transport me back to my original universe by scanning the rift to find its quantum signature and locking the transport coordinates onto it.”  
  
“Apparently we did not succeed,” Seven interjects.  
  
“No. But it was a good working theory. Seven, B’Elanna, I’d like you to work together on this. See if you can figure out a way to stabilise the transport so that this time I materialise in the right part of the space-time continuum.”  
  
“What about Chakotay?” B’Elanna cuts in. “You said you were in the shuttlecraft together in your original universe. How come he didn’t start reality-shifting with you?”  
  
“Given my current situation,” I pause, “I can’t be sure that he didn’t. The Chakotay from my reality might also be out there somewhere, shifting through different universes.”  
  
It’s a chilling thought, and right now I’m not keen to dwell on it. I push myself to my feet. “Let’s go, people.”  
  
I watch them file out. Seven offers me a brusque nod. B’Elanna and Harry leave together, she already working on a PADD, he with a quick smile in my direction. Jenkins and Rollins all but scurry out after them – clearly they’re still a little intimidated, overwhelmed by their untimely promotions. The Doctor gets in the predictable parting shot about wanting to examine me further, to which I offer the predictable reply.  
  
I hang back, waiting for Chakotay. I expect him to want me to wait, to speak privately; he’ll want to know how I’m coping with this, if there’s anything he can do to help. He’ll move up close to me, search my eyes for the trepidation, the anxiety he knows I won’t admit to. My lips have already turned up at the corners in anticipation.  
  
He barely spares me an acknowledging nod, his gaze passing over me, as he walks out of the conference room without so much as breaking his stride.  
  
=/\=  
  
By 0100 I’m so tired I’m thinking in circles, and even B’Elanna is making simple calculation errors. But we’ve made progress, I’m sure of it. We’re working on the idea that we need to somehow reinforce the matter stream if we’re going to keep the transport stable enough to send me to a different universe. So far none of our simulations have been successful, but I still have a few tricks to try. And I’m betting Seven does, as well; she says she has no need to regenerate for the next thirty-six hours, so B’Elanna and I leave her to continue working on it.  
  
I can’t help leaning against the bulkhead as the turbolift takes us up to deck nine, pinching the muscle at the back of my neck where the headache just won’t leave me alone.  
  
“Are you all right, Captain?”  
  
I muster up a smile for her. “I’m fine, Lieutenant. Thank you.”  
  
She nods, facing front again.  
  
Something makes me call, “Halt turbolift.”  
  
B’Elanna gives me an enquiring look.  
  
“I’m sorry,” I tell her softly.  
  
“What for?”  
  
“For Tom.” I let my eyes shift downward so she won’t see the guilt in them. “In my timeline, we found a way to outsmart Seska’s reprogramming, and Tom and Tuvok survived. I’m sorry I didn’t manage it in this one.”  
  
“It wasn’t your fault, Captain,” she says, then, curious, “Why are you apologising to me?”  
  
“In my reality, you two are … close.” I wave a hand.  
  
She raises her eyebrows. “We are?”  
  
“Yes, since Sakari -” I stop, realising she looks blank. “The gallicite caves. Ensign Vorik?”  
  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she admits. “Should I ask?”  
  
I hesitate. Telling her would be pointless and cruel, I decide. She might not mourn the loss of Tom Paris the way her counterpart would, but I can mourn him enough for both of us. She doesn’t need to know what might have been.  
  
“Never mind, B’Elanna. Computer, resume ‘lift.”  
  
A few moments later we stop at deck nine and B’Elanna steps out, bidding me goodnight.  
  
“Deck three,” I mumble, barely keeping my eyes open. The ‘lift carries me to the captain’s quarters, and I find my steps dragging as I approach the door. From fatigue, yes, but mostly it’s from the knowledge that I don’t belong here.  
  
Shaking off the listlessness, the despondency that wants to settle over me like a blanket, I key in the entry code and step into my quarters.  
  
“Coffee, black,” I order automatically. Chakotay, if he were here, would be chiding me for injecting more caffeine into my system in the middle of the night. At least, _my_ Chakotay would. I’m not sure _this_ universe’s Chakotay would give a damn.  
  
I wonder what happened between them, this reality’s Janeway and Chakotay. What did she do? Because I’m self-aware enough to know that it must have been down to her. He – if he’s the same man as my Chakotay – would never have instigated the cold war I sense is between them.  
  
And who does she turn to for counsel? My best friend is like a stranger to her. Her oldest friend is dead. Who provides her checks and balances, the logic to her instincts, the vigilance against her recklessness?  
  
God, how I wish Tuvok was here.  
  
Kicking off my boots, I curl up on the sofa below the viewport, hoping the alien stars will calm me, but I can’t stop my thoughts from see-sawing between the polite, professional first officer of this universe and the vibrant man – the lover, the _husband_ – of the previous one. It was a decision of that Captain Janeway’s which gave him permission to be that man. What decision did she make in this reality that turned him into someone I barely recognise?  
  
“Computer, locate Commander Chakotay.”  
  
~Commander Chakotay is in his quarters.~  
  
“Is he awake?”  
  
~Affirmative. Commander Chakotay is awake and active.~  
  
Before I can second-guess myself I’m throwing my uniform jacket on and heading out the door.  
  
I force my fingers not to tremble as I press his door chime for entry.  
  
“Come,” he calls.  
  
I step into familiar quarters, wreathed in semi-darkness. There’s the patterned throw-rug draped over the back of his couch, the sand-painting on the far wall, the small fertility statue he picked up on Briori. He’s burning a Vulcan meditation candle on the coffee table, and I wonder if it’s his way of paying homage to Tuvok.  
  
My gaze settles on the man I’ve come to see as he rises from the couch. He remains in place, not stepping closer. His face is in shadows.  
  
I open my mouth to speak, to apologise for coming so late, but before I can get the words out, he beats me to it. His voice is harsh, bitter.  
  
“Are you here to scratch your itch, Kathryn?”  
  
Wait.  
  
_What?_  
  
I stare at him, my blood chilling. The first time he’s used my name, and he’s made it sound like a curse...  
  
And what he said...  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Is that my voice, breathless and small?  
  
“Don’t you?”  
  
He moves forward into the faint light, and I can read his expression for the first time. His features are set in stone, his dark eyes – those eyes that when they look at me, have always held something, some depth of emotion meant only for me, that bolsters me – his eyes are blank. There’s no spark, no warmth, no recognition of what we try to pretend we aren’t to each other. He looks at me as though I mean nothing to him.  
  
Except – now that I’m looking closer – I realise I’m wrong. He can’t fully hide it. I mean something to him, all right. Whatever this Janeway has done to him, it’s been chipping away at small parts of his soul for a very long time.  
  
“Look, I don’t know – Whatever she did, _it wasn’t me_ ,” I babble.  
  
“Really? You seem just like her to me.”  
  
The juxtaposition of this Chakotay – the one who clearly wishes he’d never met me – against the one I was just recently spending time with – it’s cruel. _You’ve seen what you could be to each other_ , that Chakotay had told me. I’m starting to wish I’d never landed in this universe, where I’m seeing what else we could be.  
  
And yet, as always, curiosity is something I find impossible to resist.  
  
Swallowing hard, I force myself to step past him, seating myself in one of his armchairs without invitation. “Tell me,” I order.  
  
He laughs the way I like my coffee: black and bitter. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”  
  
“No,” I admit. “But I think I need to.”  
  
“All right, then.” Chakotay takes the couch, hooking one leg over the other as he stares at me from the shadows. “It started on New Earth.”  
  
=/\=  
  
It’s well into the early hours of the morning by the time I stumble back to my quarters. Knowing I won’t be getting any sleep, I duck into the sonic shower, don a fresh uniform and order yet another coffee from the replicator.  
  
I try to sit at my desk and go over the day’s experiments but I can’t seem to settle. And considering the tale I’ve just heard, that’s no surprise.  
  
Abandoning the desk, I weave my way over to the couch and lean my head back, my eyes closing as though that can stop the words and images I can’t help seeing. _It started on New Earth_ , he’d said, and from his perspective that’s the truth. But I know it started long before then, long before _Voyager_ was stranded in this part of the galaxy. Before Mark, even. It started with a shuttle slowly sinking beneath a polar ice-cap.  
  
Since I lost them, I’ve deliberately and systematically shut myself off from the kind of love that has the power to hurt me. My mother and sister were the first victims of my self-protection. Oh, I love them, yes, but after Tau Ceti Prime I pushed them away at every turn, wrapped myself in the protective cloak of duty and distance. It would hurt less if I lost them, my reasoning went, if they loved me less.  
  
My crew – I love them, there’s no doubt of that. But it’s the kind of love a commanding officer must have for those under her protection. I’d die for them, and each time one of them dies I lose another piece of myself, but it doesn’t reach inside me and rip out my guts the way that first loss did.  
  
And men?  
  
I’ve never been one to thrive without touch. I need the physical, the sexual, to remind me that I’m still alive and capable of feeling _something_. But since Justin died, I’ve been quite successful in separating that from my emotions.  
  
Mark understood. I’ve come closest with him, actually, to bridging that divide between my body and my soul. We had a great affection for each other, strong enough to pass for love. And sex with him – well, let’s just say I never had any cause for dissatisfaction.  
  
It was enough. I was happy, in a manner of speaking. Content, at least. And if in my lifetime I never loved again the way I loved Justin, then neither would I experience that soul-destroying loss.  
  
This is why I believe every word Chakotay spoke tonight.  
  
It started the night they encountered the little primate. I remember hearing the rustle in the trees, stepping out of Chakotay’s hand-hewn bath, a towel clutched around me. I remember calling out to Chakotay, him rushing to my aid with flashlight and phaser. I remember relief at discovering my imagined attacker was nothing but a small, curious monkey. And I remember turning to him and realising that his gaze was on my bare shoulders, his dark eyes smouldering with everything I knew he couldn’t say.  
  
Except that, in their timeline, he _did_ say it.  
  
My Chakotay had dropped his gaze and stepped away, returning to the shelter.  
  
Hers?  
  
He’d said, “ _Kathryn_ ,” and he’d touched her.  
  
Barely a whisper of a touch, he told me tonight. Only the stroke of a single fingertip along the line of her collarbone. But she’d loosened her hands and the towel had slipped an inch, and he’d moved closer and kissed her.  
  
He described what happened next, for him, as making love. For her, he says, it was sexual release.  
  
I’m not so sure of that, as I think on it now. I know myself, and I know her. She’d have told him – told herself – it was purely physical. And she’d have known deep down inside that she was lying.  
  
Why else have I pushed Chakotay away at every turn? Even when we were stranded on that fucking planet, alone for the rest of our lives, we thought; even when he turned me inside out with his every expression of devotion – even then, I couldn’t let him get close. The risk was too high.  
  
And it was too high for her as well. So she let him into her body, time and again, but she kept her heart guarded.  
  
A few nights before their rescue came, he told her he loved her. No allegory or dissembling or ancient stories – he told her, simply, in words she couldn’t fail to understand. And her response?  
  
I recall his face as he quoted her words to me, and I’m sure he quoted them exactly, because it was clear she’d burned them indelibly into his memory.  
  
_I’m sorry, Chakotay. This was a mistake. I can’t be what you need._  
  
He says he left the shelter for a couple of days and nights, and when he returned she was holding a commbadge. Thirty hours later _Voyager_ returned for them, and he says that the moment she put her uniform back on was the happiest he’d seen her in months.  
  
They’d resumed their previous command positions – she without a break in stride, he with faltering will and aching heart. He says she treated him with distant courtesy at first - the way she’d treated him when they first merged their crews – but that within a couple of weeks, she was back to inviting him to working dinners in her quarters, teasing him on the bridge, patting him on the shoulder or chest. He says he found it more and more difficult to breathe around her. Being in her presence, even in public, was breaking him apart.  
  
And then one night, maybe a month after their return, he showed up for one of their dinners armed with a PADD, and she opened the door to him wearing a satin slip and nothing else.  
  
She’d wound her arms around his neck, her breath hot in his ear. “I want you,” she’d said, “ _now_ ,” and he’d given her what she wanted.  
  
He’d thought, at first, that she really meant _I love you_ , or _I need you_. But as it turned out, she meant neither of those things. She’d taken her pound of flesh and, smiling, pushed him out the door, and broken his heart all over again.  
  
I remember that Chakotay stood at this point in his story, pacing over to the viewport as though the telling of it hurt every bit as much as that first betrayal. I remember that it took everything I had to stay seated, to grip the arms of my chair so I wouldn’t go to him, wrap my arms around him and press my face to his shoulder to try to soothe away the wound she’d imprinted on him. And I remember hating her, and by extension myself, for what she’d done.  
  
Because it wasn’t the last time. Every so often, when she feels the need, she calls him to her quarters – or, occasionally, goes to his – and takes him to bed. And because she wants him, he goes. Because he is who he is, he never says no to her.  
  
The hell of it is, I can see all too clearly how this happened to them, because it so easily could have happened to _us_.  
  
There are nights when I’m lying sleepless, tangled in cool sheets that almost sizzle on my heated skin, touching myself and letting my mind drift to him, that I think it would be so easy to call him. He’d want that, wouldn’t he? We’d be so good together, just skin sliding over skin, the mindless pleasure of his lips on my throat and his body filling mine. I could call him and he’d come, and it wouldn’t have to mean a thing.  
  
Except that it would, and unlike this Kathryn Janeway, I’ve managed not to blind myself to that fact.  
  
This Chakotay finds it hard to believe it could be any different. I plead with him to accept the two other truths I’ve known – that in another universe we’re married, and in mine, we’re friends – but he simply shakes his head. And then he tells me something that rocks me to my core, more than anything else he’s said tonight.  
  
“I’m leaving,” he says starkly. “She doesn’t know yet – I was going to tell her tonight. I can’t do this anymore, and she doesn’t need me. So the next friendly M-class planet we find, I’ll be getting off this ship.”  
  
“Of course she needs you!” I latch onto the one thing I have a hope of defying. “How is she supposed to run the ship without you? And without Tuvok or Tom to step into your role?”  
  
“I’ve prepared a list of candidates for executive officer. Rollins or Hargrove would do fine, or Ayala if she wants to appoint another former Maquis.”  
  
“Rollins is terrified of me,” I retort. “And Hargrove has next to no command experience. I need a first officer who’ll stand up to me. Who’ll know how to make me back down when I’m about to do something foolhardy.”  
  
He shifts, and the pale light from the viewport angles across his face. I can see he’s smiling, ever so faintly, but it’s not a joyous smile. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from her,” and I realise from the slight stress he places on the pronoun that he hasn’t forgotten he’s speaking of a different captain, even if I have, “it’s that she doesn’t need anyone.”  
  
“You’re the heart and soul of this ship, Chakotay.” And now I can’t stop myself from going to him, my hand resting on his chest as I try to hold him with my eyes. “Whatever she’s made you believe, she _cannot_ do this without you.”  
  
He looks down at me silently with those beautiful dark eyes, and raises a hand to clasp mine to his chest.  
  
“Just promise me you’ll reconsider,” I urge. “Please. Talk to her again. Try to make her understand, before it’s too late.”  
  
“My words have never meant much to her,” he says softly. “But I’ll try. For you.”  
  
=/\=  
  
In the third drawer of her bureau, concealed inside a rolled-up pair of socks, I find what I’m looking for. I plug the tiny data rod into her computer console and wait for the chirp that indicates it’s active.  
  
“Display all files,” I order it. “Authorisation Janeway tau gamma one.”  
  
~Authorisation accepted. All files enabled.~  
  
It’s no surprise that she uses the same code as I do.  
  
I scroll through her personal logs – the ones she wants nobody, including Starfleet should they ever have the opportunity, to see - until I find the one I’m looking for. “Halt display. Open the file for Stardate 50007.2.”  
  
~File displayed.~  
  
“Play log.”  
  
_We’re back_ , says my double onscreen. _Tuvok put the ship at risk to rescue us, but I’ve decided not to discipline him. After all, his timing couldn’t have been better_.  
  
She pauses, and I watch as the mask slips a little.  
  
_I’ve hurt him_ , she continues, her voice low. _What happened between us on that planet will never make it into any official log – I’ve made sure of that. He’ll follow my orders. He always does, no matter what it costs him_.  
  
She sighs. _It was a mistake, getting involved with him. At least, it was a mistake the way it ended up. He believed it was just sexual for me because I let him believe that, even to the last. And then he told me how he felt – feels – and I lied to him, because I was scared. I ruined everything because I was too much of a coward to tell him how I feel. To tell him I – I -_  
  
She laughs, a bitter sob of a laugh. _I can’t even say it to myself. And now I’ll never be with him again, because I’m the captain, and I can’t. I wish – I want… The hell with it. Computer, end log._  
  
The log automatically cycles to the next entry, and, riveted, I let it play.  
  
She looks different in this one. Instead of her uniform, she wears a familiar pink satin slip, her hair mussed and tangled. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips swollen.  
  
_Personal log, Stardate 50098.9. God, what is wrong with me?_ She buries her face in her hands momentarily, then looks up, clearly determined to continue despite the trembling of her lower lip, the moisture in her eyes.  
  
_I seduced him. I did it deliberately. He’s been trying so very hard to be what I said I need him to be, to pretend we were never lovers, and I couldn’t stand it. I missed him so much, and I needed –_  
  
She pauses to breathe _. So I took what I wanted, and then I kicked him out._  
  
As I watch, she rakes her fingers through her tumbled hair and straightens her spine, her eyes hardening. _Nothing has changed. Our situation, what we need to be - I won’t do that to him again._  
  
_End log._  
  
“Pause playback,” I order quickly before the next log can begin. I scan the list of stardates; there are over a dozen, and probably, if I know myself, all recorded shortly after the nights when she did do that to him again. But I find I don’t want to hear her excuses. Tortured and emotionally stunted she may be – and oh, I know she is – I can’t bear to watch her struggle to live with herself as her choices tear that good, honest, loving man to shreds.  
  
I can’t let her do this anymore.  
  
I sit up straight.  
  
“Computer, begin recording,” I say, speaking clearly. “Kathryn Janeway, personal log, stardate 51137.5. To the Captain Kathryn Janeway of this universe – I have a message for you…”  
  
=/\=  
  
“Report.”  
  
I stifle a yawn as I arrive on the upper level of engineering. B’Elanna turns to me, looking almost as tired as I feel.  
  
“Seven thinks we can reinforce the matter stream by running the energising coil at one hundred twenty percent,” she says. “We run the risk of burning out the coil, but if we can’t keep your pattern stable we won’t be able to rematerialise you when the transport is complete.”  
  
“And have you determined whether we can rematerialise me in my original universe?”  
  
“I believe so,” Seven says, turning to me with hands clasped behind her back. “You mentioned that during the previous shift, you identified the quantum signature of your reality using a subspace differential pulse directed toward the rift and aligned the transporter’s targeting scanners to the pulse. However, the rift was in a state of flux and the transporter beam did not remain stable for long enough to retain the target lock.”  
  
She turns to activate a simulation on the console screen. “If we narrow the annular confinement beam along a resonance pulse matching the signature of your original quantum state, our likelihood of success is ninety-two percent.”  
  
“Unless the breach destabilises again,” B’Elanna points out. “In which case, you’d rematerialise, but who knows where?”  
  
“What if we increase power to the subspace differential pulse? We may be able to use it to stabilise the rift long enough to complete the transport.”  
  
Seven inclines her head. “I will run some simulations and report in one hour.”  
  
I nod my approval. “I’ll be on the bridge.”  
  
And that’s where I intend to go. But when the turbolift reaches deck one, I find I’m not ready to face Chakotay – not after his heart-rending, soul-baring confessions early this morning. So I sail past the command centre with a brief, “I’ll be in the ready room,” and I don’t look back.  
  
I don’t know when his Captain Janeway will see the message I’ve left for her; I don’t even know if she’ll ever return to this universe, just as I’m uncertain whether I’ll return to mine. But if she does, all I can do is hope that her wake-up call comes in time.  
  
And, curling up on her sofa under her viewport in her ready room, drinking her coffee and gazing at her stars, I wonder if it’s been just as much a wake-up call for me.  
  
An hour later, precisely, Seven of Nine comms me to inform me that she has successfully completed a dozen simulations and is ready to attempt a transport using a biocontainer. I tell her I’ll meet her and B’Elanna in the transporter room in fifteen minutes.  
  
But I have something I need to do first, and it’s time to stop procrastinating.  
  
“Janeway to Chakotay. Could you report to the ready room, please?”  
  
The door slides open and he stands at attention just far enough inside it to let it close. “You wanted to see me, Captain?”  
  
“Yes. Please, sit.”  
  
He obeys, taking a seat on the long couch, far enough from me that I have to shift closer to take his hands in mine. He looks down at them, his expression tight.  
  
“What you told me last night – it didn’t happen that way for us,” I start. “We were never lovers. Not on New Earth and not on our ship.”  
  
Chakotay finally meets my eyes, waiting.  
  
“We’re friends. Good friends, although our encounter with the Borg has caused us some difficulty.”  
  
“That was the last straw for me,” he says finally. “I begged her not to go ahead with the alliance. If Tuvok had still been alive –”  
  
I shake my head. “My Tuvok couldn’t change my mind, either. Don’t blame yourself for that.”  
  
He nods, slowly. “I took it as the final confirmation that she had no intention of listening to me anymore. That she truly didn’t need me, or anyone else.”  
  
“But she does,” I almost whisper. “I told my Chakotay that I couldn’t imagine a day without him. It’s true, and I know it’s true for her as well.”  
  
He almost smiles. “If you only knew how I’ve longed to hear her say that.”  
  
“Chakotay…” I sigh. “I’m not going to try to convince you that she knows what she wants, or even that she’d take it if she did. But I do know she cares about you.”  
  
“Just not enough.”  
  
“You’re wrong, you know,” I tell him before I can lose my nerve. “It’s not that she doesn’t care enough. It’s the opposite, and that frightens her.”  
  
He gives me a disbelieving look.  
  
“Trust me on this.” I smile at him and watch his eyes soften.  
  
~Torres to Janeway. We’re ready in transporter room one, Captain.~  
  
“Acknowledged,” I answer, still holding Chakotay’s gaze. “I’ll be right there.”  
  
I close the channel. “Time to go,” I say softly.  
  
He pulls one hand free from mine and raises it slowly to touch my face. I lean my cheek into his palm, closing my eyes as he strokes his thumb gently over my cheekbone.  
  
“I wish you could stay.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Chakotay accompanies me to the transporter room and immediately moves behind the console, where Seven and B’Elanna are fine-tuning their calculations.  
  
“The transport of the biocontainer was successful,” Seven informs me. “We are ready to begin.”  
  
I step onto the transporter pad and meet Chakotay’s eyes one last time. He smiles.  
  
“Energise,” I order, and feel the tingling of dematerialisation take hold. The transporter room begins to fade out of view.  
  
I hear an alert chime, and B’Elanna’s face tenses.  
  
_… problem … can’t stabilise …_  
  
I gasp as pain rips through my body. It feels as though every atom is being ripped apart.  
  
_… tachyon surge …_  
  
_Get her back!_  
  
_… can’t …_  
  
I try to scream, but before I can make a sound, my vision blurs to white.


	6. Everything You Know Is Wrong

**6\. Everything You Know Is Wrong - Chakotay (III)**  
**Stardate 51136.6**  
  
_She seems so cool, so focused, so quiet, yet her eyes remain fixed upon the horizon. You think you know all there is to know about her immediately upon meeting her, but everything you think you know is wrong._  
  
  
Well, this is different.  
  
I expect to see the sickbay ceiling when I open my eyes, but instead it’s the curved grey of a bulkhead. My cheek is pressed not to a linen-covered pillow but into rough grey carpet. I drag myself slowly to a sitting position, clutching my head. When I’m able to, I stand, holding onto the wall for balance.  
  
“Computer, where am I?”  
  
~Deck three, section alpha-two.~  
  
I shake my head to clear it and regret it instantly; the lights of the display panel to my left swim sickeningly. “Computer, confirm location.”  
  
~Deck three, section alpha-two.~  
  
The door to my right leads to the captain’s quarters. What the hell am I doing here?  
  
I make my way to the turbolift. “Bridge,” I order the computer.  
  
~That location is not available.~  
  
The turbolift must be malfunctioning. “Take me anywhere on deck one, then.”  
  
~Unable to comply.~  
  
“Why not?”  
  
~Turbolift controls have been re-routed to engineering.~  
  
“Fine,” I mutter, and step back out into the corridor. I tap my commbadge. “Chakotay to engineering.”  
  
~Carey here.~  
  
“What the hell’s wrong with turbolift zeta-three?”  
  
There’s a brief pause, then he answers, sounding cautious. ~There’s a fault in the anodyne relays, sir. I’m making repairs as we speak.~  
  
“Get it done,” I answer irritably. “Chakotay out.”  
  
I need to get to the bridge and make certain I’m in the right place. But the pounding in my head isn’t abating, and I’m starting to feel nauseated. I can either go to sickbay – not an appealing thought – or take a hot shower in the hope it’ll relieve my headache. The second option wins.  
  
I trudge down the hallway to my quarters and enter my access code. _Access denied_ , the panel informs me. I try it again – I must have mis-keyed the sequence – with the same result.  
  
Squinting, I realise the name on the doorplate is not mine.  
  
_Torres_ , it says.  
  
My stomach tightens. Following a hunch, I reverse my course.  
  
The nameplate on the captain’s door says _Chakotay_.  
  
I tap in my code, and the door opens. My feet carry me inside and I glance warily around.  
  
This is definitely the captain’s quarters. But there’s no Risan urn on the viewport ledge, no painting of _Voyager_ on the wall, no vase of flowers on the dining table. Instead, the throw rug I replicated to look like the one my sister made me in a previous life is tossed over the back of an armchair. And my medicine bundle sits, neatly tied, on the low table near the couch.  
  
Cautiously, I step into the bedroom.  
  
The bureau drawers are sparsely filled with T-shirts and pants I recognise, and there are no Starfleet uniforms hanging in the closet.  
  
It’s abundantly clear that _this_ is not my reality.  
  
“Computer, who is the captain of this vessel?”  
  
~The captain of the USS _Voyager_ is Captain Chakotay.~  
  
“On what date did I assume command?”  
  
~Stardate 48326.8.~  
  
About four days after we rescued Harry and B’Elanna from the Ocampan planet. God, what happened here? Clearly we’re still in the Delta quadrant, so she must have destroyed the Caretaker’s array. But then what?  
  
Did I take her ship from her? Or – something even worse occurs to me -  
  
“Computer, is Kathryn Janeway on board this vessel?”  
  
~Affirmative.~  
  
Thank God she’s not dead. “Locate her.”  
  
~Kathryn Janeway is in engineering.~  
  
“What’s her position on this ship?”  
  
~Assistant engineer, reporting to B’Elanna Torres.~  
  
“Is this a Federation Starfleet ship?” I already know the answer.  
  
~Negative. This vessel is the property of the Maquis.~  
  
_Shit_.  
  
I head back out to the living area, sit at the desk and pull the computer toward me. “Activate personal log. Display the first file recorded after Stardate 48326.8.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Two hours later I’m slumped over the desk with my aching head in my hands, all thoughts of taking a shower forgotten. I’ve watched most of his logs from the past three years and I’m reeling from what I’ve learned.  
  
Kathryn destroyed the Array, as in my universe. And later, as in my universe, she called my counterpart into her ready room to discuss what should happen next. But that conversation, it seems, didn’t go the way it did in my reality.  
  
In my universe, she spoke to me as an equal. She stated our situation calmly and proposed that we join forces. She was firm on the decision that we’d run a Starfleet ship, but she told me she had every intention of treating my crew fairly. And I believed her. I committed myself to following her orders, and despite a few teething problems – B’Elanna, Dalby - she has always kept her word.  
  
In this one, apparently, she addressed the issue differently. From my counterpart’s retelling, it seems she immediately presented him with three options: confinement to the brig, resettlement on a planet or assignment to an appropriate post on her ship. She proposed that he take the position of first officer but made it clear that this offer was contingent upon his ability to keep the Maquis in line.  
  
He reacted the way I likely would have at the time: he told her she could keep her lapdog’s job, and then demanded to know how she expected to run her ship on less than a skeleton crew.  
  
_I’ll manage_ , she’d replied, then called Tuvok in to escort him to the brig. The rest of his crew she’d locked down in the cargo bay, where they were to be held until a suitable M-class planet could be found to leave them on.  
  
Within twelve hours, they’d escaped from the cargo bay, liberated that other Chakotay from the brig, and taken the ship.  
  
Seven of the Starfleet crew were killed in the takeover, including Tuvok and Harry Kim. Two of the Maquis – Tabor and Henley - died as well. That Chakotay had then brought Kathryn, shackled and under guard, to the same cargo bay where the Maquis had been held and stood her to face her remaining crew.  
  
_You have a choice_ , he’d told her. _Nobody else needs to die. And they won’t have to, if you’ll serve under me_.  
  
And so, to save the lives of her crew, she’d agreed.  
  
He’d assigned her to engineering under B’Elanna’s watchful eye and kept two armed guards on her at all times until he could be reasonably certain she wasn’t planning anything. After six months or so it seemed she’d accepted her fate. He began allowing her to attend tactical meetings, giving her more access to ship’s systems. He began to spend more time with her – after all, she was the only other person on the ship who knew what it was like to be captain. And she was intelligent and interesting and undeniably beautiful.  
  
He still expected her to attempt a mutiny. But as the months, and then years, passed, she gave no sign of it, and in fact began to seek him out when she was off duty. They ate dinner together almost every night in his quarters. She grew relaxed in his presence, smiled at him often, touched him on the arm or the chest.  
  
There was a party in the mess hall for the New Year’s Eve just gone. The whole crew attended, and there was plenty of drinking amidst the laughter. Afterward, he and Kathryn stumbled back to his cabin for a nightcap, and when she’d finished her brandy she pulled him close and kissed him.  
  
I listen to my counterpart retelling the events of that night – how he’d responded to her kiss, how she’d stepped back and removed her clothes, slowly and with her curling half-smile, how they’d spent hours in his bed. He’s been in love with her for a long, long time. I guess some things are a constant in any universe.  
  
So they became lovers. Almost every night after that, she’d come to his quarters, wrap her body around his and lead him into his bedroom. I watch the joy in his eyes as he talks about her in his logs, the quiet amazement that they’ve made this slow transition from enemies to lovers, and I wonder.  
  
=/\=  
  
The first thing I need to do, I decide, is assess the situation. And I can’t do that dressed in Starfleet uniform, so I take that shower – finally – and pull on the closest clothing to hand.  
  
“Computer, what’s the time?”  
  
~The time is 2345 hours.~  
  
A few minutes before shift change. “Who’s currently in command?”  
  
~Michael Ayala.~  
  
“And who’s commanding Gamma shift?”  
  
~Kurt Bendera.~  
  
Shit. It’s a stab to the heart; it hadn’t occurred to me that as well as having lost people in this universe who are still alive in mine, the opposite might have also happened. To see Kurt again …  
  
I shake it off. I need to find someone I can trust. Someone who’ll help me get the hell out of this twisted reality and back to mine.  
  
“Computer, locate B’Elanna Torres.”  
  
~B’Elanna Torres is in Jeffries tube 57-delta.~  
  
Repairing the interface to the navigational array, probably; on my _Voyager_ we’ve had recurrent problems with the gel-pack relays in that section. “Chakotay to Torres.”  
  
~Yeah?~  
  
_Yeah?_ It sets me off-balance; if I’d needed a reminder that this is not a Starfleet ship, B’Elanna’s cranky, casual response would suffice.  
  
“Meet me in my quarters on the double.”  
  
There’s a slight pause. ~Thought you had a hot date tonight. Janeway decided not to open her legs for a change?~  
  
It takes a herculean effort to stomp on my visceral, outraged response. “Just get up here, Torres. Now.”  
  
~You got it, boss. Torres out.~  
  
I pace off the anger of B’Elanna’s insult while I wait for her to arrive, and it’s not until the door chimes that it occurs to me to wonder: if Captain Chakotay did indeed have a ‘hot date’ with Engineer Janeway, what happened? Why isn’t she still here?  
  
And why did I wake up in the corridor outside his quarters?  
  
“Come.”  
  
B’Elanna steps in, all tangled curls and grimy leathers, and pushes past me to flop onto my couch, one leg hooked over the arm. “So? I’m here.”  
  
I take the armchair opposite and lean forward, elbows on my knees. “B’Elanna, I have to tell you something, and I need you to bear with me on this.”  
  
“Kahless,” she exclaims, eyes widening. “Is she pregnant?”  
  
“ _What?_ No!” I hesitate. “I mean, I don’t know. I’m not – that’s not –”  
  
She raises an eyebrow at me. “You okay, boss?”  
  
“I’m not your boss. At least, not in the way you mean. I’m Commander Chakotay of the Federation starship _Voyager_ –”  
  
“What the fuck are you talking about?”  
  
“- and I’m not from this universe.”  
  
She stills, her face wary. “Where the hell are you from, then?”  
  
I shrug. “An alternate reality. Pretty different from this one, as far as I’ve seen.”  
  
“I’ll say,” she mutters. “Federation starship _Voyager?_ You got any proof?”  
  
Without a word, I go into the bedroom, pick up my uniform jacket and bring it back to toss in her lap.  
  
“ _Hu’tegh_ ,” she breathes. “You’d better start talking.”  
  
=/\=  
  
“She made me a lieutenant? And I wear the uniform … we all do?”  
  
B’Elanna sits back, the whiskey I’d poured at her request about five minutes into my story forgotten on the low table in front of her.  
  
“This is all pretty unbelievable, Chakotay. I can’t picture you taking orders from _her_. You’re as pissed off at Starfleet as the rest of us.”  
  
“Well, believe it. And I didn’t put on the uniform for Starfleet. I did it for her, and I did it for us. It was the only way to guarantee my crew’s safety.”  
  
“Not the only way,” she mutters. “We _run_ this ship. And Janeway takes orders from _you_.” She smirks. “And from me, for that matter.”  
  
“I’m not here to change the way things work in this universe. I just want to get back to my own.”  
  
“Okay. Tell me about this subspace rift.”  
  
I explain the warp core overload, the attempted transport, the shifting between quantum realities.  
  
B’Elanna nods. “It sounds like some kind of quantum tether phenomenon. Your first encounter with the rift caused it to breach, which broke down the barriers between quantum realities and led to you shifting out of your own universe. From what you’ve told me, each time a shift occurs you end up on an alternate _Voyager_. I’d speculate that the breach is somehow linked both to _Voyager_ and to you.”  
  
“Does that mean if I shift again I’ll end up on another _Voyager_ and not on the _Val Jean_ , or in some Cardassian prison?”  
  
“Theoretically, yes. Unless I’m wrong and the tether isn’t related to _Voyager_ , in which case you could end up anywhere.”  
  
I decide not to follow that disturbing train of thought – as B’Elanna pointed out, it’s theoretical. “And the captain – I mean, my captain?”  
  
“You think she’s out there shifting realities as well?”  
  
“It’s possible.”  
  
B’Elanna taps her chin thoughtfully. “You were both in the same shuttlecraft when you encountered the rift, you were both hit by the tachyon discharge, and presumably you were both transported out before the core breached.”  
  
“So how do we get back?”  
  
“I have a few ideas, but we’re going to need help.” She smirks. “Quantum theory isn’t my specialty – it’s more your girlfriend’s scene.”  
  
“My girl-” I stop. “Oh. You mean, uh, Janeway’s.”  
  
Instead of answering, she taps her commbadge. “Torres to Janeway.”  
  
~Janeway here.~ Her husky contralto sounds both cool and wary.  
  
“I need your help with a little mystery. Meet me in engineering.”  
  
I can hear the hesitation on the other end of the line. ~Is it urgent?~ she asks, finally. ~I was sleeping.~  
  
“Yeah, it’s urgent,” B’Elanna snaps. “Get down there in five minutes. Torres out.”  
  
“B’Elanna,” I say harshly when she’s cut the line. “Is it really necessary to speak to her that way?”  
  
“Trust me. She needs reminding who’s boss.” B’Elanna curls gracefully to her feet. “You coming?”  
  
“Yeah. I’m coming.”  
  
She moves toward the door, but it remains closed. “Computer, open the door.”  
  
~Unable to comply.~  
  
“Why the hell not?” she snaps.  
  
~Controls have been routed to engineering.~  
  
“Override. Authorisation Torres Zeta-Four.”  
  
~That authorisation code is not accepted.~  
  
“What the fuck?” she snarls. Tapping her commbadge, “Torres to engineering.”  
  
The comm remains silent. Swearing in a mixture of Klingon, Bajoran and Spanish, B’Elanna rips off the control plate beside the door and starts tinkering with relays and circuits.  
  
“The turbolift controls were routed to engineering earlier,” I tell her. My gut is clenching, but I’m trying not to jump to conclusions. “Something I should know about?”  
  
“Everything was working fine when Carey asked me to look at those damn gel-packs in the navigational array,” B’Elanna growls. “And why he asked _me_ , the chief engineer, to fix something a fucking high school student could’ve –”  
  
She stops, turns to stare at me.  
  
“ _ghuy’ maghwl’_ ,” she growls. “It’s a fucking _mutiny_.”  
  
=/\=  
  
I prowl around these half-familiar quarters. The Jeffries tube access behind the captain’s bed is, as expected, not responding to voice commands, nor will the computer obey my demands for a site-to-site transport. I can’t raise the bridge, engineering or sickbay. If any of the Maquis can hear my comms, they’re either unable or unwilling to reply, and I don’t bother to contact any of the former Starfleet crew.  
  
Fortunately, it takes B’Elanna less than twenty minutes to override the door controls. We leave our commbadges on the dining table and arm ourselves with the phasers I find taped under Captain Chakotay’s bathroom cabinet, crouching low as we flatten ourselves behind the opened doors. I toss a shoe out into the hallway, but the half-expected weapons fire fails to materialise.  
  
I jerk my head and B’Elanna whips into the corridor, phaser ready. “Clear,” she whispers, and I follow her out. We crab-walk toward the nearest Jeffries tube hatch, watching each other’s backs, but the hallway remains silent and deserted as she quickly breaks into the access hatch. I snatch a tricorder from behind the storage panel just inside the tube and start scanning.  
  
“Two life forms seventeen metres ahead,” I murmur. “One Bajoran, one Bolian. No commbadges.”  
  
“Chell or Golwat?”  
  
I readjust the tricorder. “Male,” I tell her, smiling, and she grins back, “One of us, then,” as we start to shuffle in their direction.  
  
“Chell,” I hiss when we’re close enough for them to hear, and his anxious blue face appears around a corner. He sags in relief when he sees us.  
  
“We thought you were locked down in quarters,” he says. “And B’Elanna was supposed to be trapped in a Jeffries tube near nav control.”  
  
“How do you know that?” I demand.  
  
“We were repairing the deflector array,” he explains. “We finished sooner than expected, and when we climbed out of the tube behind main engineering, we heard Janeway, Carey and Nicoletti talking about it. Nicoletti said she was about to initiate crew quarters lockdown. Janeway said she’d already taken care of you, boss. We had to get out of there before they found us, so we didn’t stick around to hear any more.”  
  
I digest that; it doesn’t take a genius to realise Janeway must have drugged or shot Captain Chakotay, and he somehow made it into the corridor before I switched places with him. It makes sense to take out the captain and the chief engineer. Knowing her, though, she’d have refrained from using lethal force. Unfortunately, that would probably be her undoing.  
  
I shake it off and return my attention to Chell. “So what are you doing on deck three?”  
  
“Trying to get to the bridge. They must’ve detected us, though. They’ve sealed us out of all the upper deck access ports. We’re trying to break through now.”  
  
And he leans sideways to indicate his partner in crime, who’s busy manipulating a control panel near the access hatch that would lead us to deck one. The Bajoran woman spares me a brief glance over her shoulder and my blood chills in my veins.  
  
“Seska,” I rasp.  
  
=/\=  
  
Of all the dead, departed colleagues I might have hoped to see again in this reality, it has to furnish me with the one I only ever see in my nightmares.  
  
“Good to see you too, Chakotay,” she says snidely, returning her attention to the hatch. “I guess Janeway’s little seduce-and-stun plan didn’t work out quite the way she hoped.”  
  
“Apparently it worked well enough for her to try taking over the ship,” I mutter without thinking.  
  
“Serves you right for thinking with your dick,” Seska replies pettishly. “Don’t worry, _chesei_. We’ll get the ship back. And then I’m going to enjoy killing your little Starfleet _xati_.”  
  
“There’ll be no killing,” I rap out sharply. Then, when even B’Elanna turns to stare at me in disbelief, I amend, “unless I expressly order it.”  
  
Seska mutters something no doubt insulting under her breath, then louder, “Got it,” and the hatch swings open. She slides in, followed by Chell and B’Elanna. I take up the rear, and Seska’s halfway up the ladder to deck one by the time my foot’s on the bottom rung.  
  
“Phasers to stun,” I remind them all as we reach the top. B’Elanna starts working on the hatch that will deposit us behind the tactical station on the bridge. Seska leans her back against the wall and regards me through half-lidded eyes.  
  
“There’s something different about you,” she says over B’Elanna’s quiet curses as the locking mechanism refuses to release.  
  
“Like what?” I’m not interested in _looking_ at her, let alone making conversation.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know.” She curls the corners of her lips. “You look … soft. Not angry enough. You don’t look like a man who’s trying to save his ship from a mutiny led by his traitorous lover.”  
  
“Jealous?” I snap at her, knowing it’s a mistake the moment it passes my lips.  
  
She laughs, her eyes showing genuine amusement. “You know I gave up on you years ago, _chesei_. You’re too old to keep up with me.” She rolls her hips obscenely, grinning. “Don’t feel bad for me. Tommy keeps me well-satisfied these days.”  
  
The only ‘Tommy’ I know on this ship is Tom Paris. I glance at B’Elanna, who returns my look without expression. “We’re ready here,” she says quietly, tipping her head toward the access panel.  
  
I pull out my tricorder. “Eleven life signs. Seven have commbadges. Looks like we have two ‘fleeters at tactical, one at ops, and two covering our people on the command level. I’m reading Jenkins at the helm and Ballard at the engineering station.” I look around at them. “B’Elanna and I will take out tactical, then I’ll take helm and the engineering station while she locks down the bridge. Chell, you cover the ops station. Seska, head for the command level. _Stun_ setting,” I remind her. I stare at each of them in turn. “Ready?”  
  
“Ready,” they all reply.  
  
“Let’s go.”  
  
I shove the hatch open and dive out, rolling to the right and coming up with my phaser trained on the tactical station. Rollins is already reaching for his own weapon but I stun him quickly and throw myself sideways to avoid Bennet’s phaser. I hear Bennet groan and drop heavily to the floor as B’Elanna takes him out, followed by the thud of Hargrove hitting the deck at ops, but I’m already crouching low and running to fire at Jenkins, who ducks behind the helm console. From the corner of my eye I see Ballard drop. I hear Seska shout something triumphant. Jenkins pokes her head out from behind the helm and I take her out, then turn to find Chell training his weapon on Ashmore, who’s kneeling, hands clasped behind his head. Anderson lies on the deck beside him.  
  
The four Maquis who’d been under guard stand to greet us – Ayala, Bendera, Yosa and Jor. Kurt Bendera is grinning as he steps toward me and slaps me on the back. “Nice going, boss.”  
  
To his surprise, I grab him in a fierce one-armed hug, then let him go. “It’s good to see you, Kurt.”  
  
“Likewise.” He shrugs, then turns to glance around the bridge at all the unconscious former Starfleet officers. “Now what?”  
  
“Now we take back our ship.”  
  
=/\=  
  
“Don’t be an idiot, Chakotay,” Seska snaps. “They outnumber us two to one. If we’re going to win, we have to use lethal force, at least on some of them. That should make the others fall in line.”  
  
“If you make me repeat myself again, Seska, you’ll be getting acquainted with the inside of the brig,” I snarl back at her. “Think about the long game. Thirty of us can’t run this ship – we need the ‘fleeters. That’s why I let them live when we took this ship three years ago, and that fact hasn’t changed.”  
  
“If you think you can trust them again, you’re even more deluded than I thought,” Seska snorts.  
  
“I don’t need to trust them if I hold their ringleaders in the brig,” I tell her abruptly.  
  
“So Janeway, Carey and Nicoletti?” Seska puts one hand on her hip in challenge. “You’re going to lose half the experienced engineering staff in one hit.”  
  
“Carey and Nicoletti will still be put to work. They won’t try anything without Janeway.”  
  
“And where will she be?” Seska sneers. “Warming the captain’s bed?”  
  
It’s the last straw. My fist is connecting with her quasi-Bajoran jaw before I can even think about stopping myself. Seska picks herself gingerly up from the floor, shooting hate-daggers at me.  
  
“I’ll worry about crew assignments when we’ve taken back this ship,” I hiss at her when I’ve got enough control of myself to speak. “Until then, shut the _hell_ up and follow my goddamn orders. Understood?”  
  
Her voice is sweet as poison. “Understood.”  
  
I nod to B’Elanna, who leads the others over to the engineering station, Chell staying behind to keep a phaser pointed at Ashmore. As Seska pushes past me I grab her by the elbow, my fingers digging, hard, into her deceptively smooth flesh. She stops, glaring at me, then down at my hand.  
  
“ _Nu peret ka, vrerUj tunka_ ,” I whisper to her.  
  
Her entire body freezes. I can almost hear the tendons in her neck creak as she raises her eyes to mine. For the space of three or four seconds, I look into her eyes and see the true Seska – not the simpering-sweet Bajoran, not the scheming Kazon ally, not even the half-crazed displaced Cardassian who used her son as a pawn to start a war. Just Seska, distilled to her essence, a cold-burning coal of self-interest and loathing.  
  
Then she smiles like ice cracking, and I let go of her arm and turn away.  
  
=/\=  
  
B’Elanna fits us all out with commbadges that emit a dampening signal and are tuned only to each other’s frequency. I send Ayala, Jor and Chell to the armory first and then to search out any other Maquis crew they can find, leave Bendera and Yosa in charge of the bridge, and take B’Elanna and Seska with me to engineering.  
  
The turbolifts are back online – Janeway must be confident that she’s locked all the Maquis down in quarters or has them under guard – so what would’ve been a miserably long descent through the Jeffries tubes is instead a matter of moments. Out of caution, we order the ‘lift to take us to deflector control instead of main engineering. It’s only a five-minute crawl through the tubes from there.  
  
We encounter no resistance and see no sign of anything amiss. Which, really, should have been my first clue.  
  
Just behind the hatch that leads from deflector control onto the main floor of engineering, I pull out my tricorder and scan the area. “I’m picking up three life forms, all human,” I whisper. “Two by the warp core, one by the auxiliary control station. Seska and I will take them all. B’Elanna, get to work on establishing system control.”  
  
They both nod, so I edge open the hatch and slip out, Seska close on my heels. She fires at the two officers standing in front the warp core and I swing around to cover the one at the control station. It’s Freddy Bristow.  
  
“Who’ve you got?” I call to Seska.  
  
“Larson and Dorado,” she says, sounding furious. “Where the hell is Janeway?”  
  
“I’m right here,” comes a cool, husky voice from the upper level of engineering. Motioning Bristow into the centre of the room so I can keep my phaser trained on him, I crane my neck to see her. Then she comes into view and I almost drop the phaser.  
  
Her hair is short, like the way Kes used to wear hers, sharpening the lines of her cheekbones and jaw, and she’s wearing a tank and tight leather pants. The lift descends from the upper level, and when she steps off it’s like every fantasy I ever had is slinking toward me.  
  
“Hello, Chakotay,” she says in that husky voice, her mouth curling in a half-smile.  
  
I swallow, hard.  
  
Beside me, Seska hisses with fury. “They have us surrounded.”  
  
I tear my gaze away from Kathryn and glance around. Carey and Nicoletti have phaser rifles trained on us from the upper level. Baxter, Rollins and Molina have appeared from who knows where to level their phasers at us, and Mulcahey has B’Elanna bailed up at the auxiliary station.  
  
The main doors open, and my roving team – Ayala, Chell and Jor - is shoved inside at Starfleet phaser point and ushered over to stand near B’Elanna.  
  
“Drop your weapons,” Kathryn orders.  
  
“Fuck you, Starfleet,” Seska snarls.  
  
Kathryn doesn’t even spare her a glance. “Call off your dog, Chakotay. Nobody has to die today.”  
  
I lower my phaser. Mulcahey nudges B’Elanna and with a growl, she follows suit. Seska turns to glare at me, and I stare back at her. “Do as she says, Seska.”  
  
Seska lets out a string of Bajoran curses and tosses her phaser to the floor.  
  
I turn to Kathryn. “Now what?”  
  
She regards me calmly. “I gave you a choice three years ago, and you made the wrong one. So today I’m offering you a simpler choice. What’s it to be, Chakotay? Resettlement on an uninhabited world with the rest of your little band of rebels, or will you serve under me?”  
  
“And what happens to my people if I choose door number two?”  
  
“They’ll be treated fairly.” She pauses, cocks her head at Seska. “This one, though, is not welcome aboard my ship.”  
  
“Fairly?” I repeat. “Will B’Elanna stay on as chief engineer?”  
  
“No,” Kathryn says. “But if she proves herself trustworthy, I’ll consider reinstating her.”  
  
B’Elanna snorts. “Forget it. I’ll take exile over working for you.”  
  
“Me too,” Chell declares, and Ayala simply glares at her.  
  
“And you?” Kathryn turns back to me.  
  
We lock eyes.  
  
I search hers for a sign, no matter how slight, of any kind of softer feeling. Any sign that she cares for me – for _him_ – at all.  
  
And I think I see it. In the depths of her eyes, there’s a flicker of some kind of emotion, but before I can name it, it’s gone.  
  
I understand. She could have loved him. Maybe, in a way, she did. But he took her ship, and I know she would never accept that.  
  
I stare at her, my voice even. “I stay with my crew.”  
  
“As you wish,” she says, then nods to Baxter. “Beam them all to the brig.”  
  
“Wait –” I shout, realising what’s about to happen, but before I can explain what effect the transporter will have on me, my molecules are being ripped apart as the dematerialisation sequence takes hold and the pain renders me unable to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought a translation matrix would be useful. Thanks, internet.
> 
>  _Hu’tegh_ = fuck! (Klingon)  
>  _ghuy’ maghwl’_ = goddamn traitor (Klingon)  
>  _chesei_ = sweetheart (Bajoran)  
>  _xati_ = whore (Bajoran)  
>  _nu peret ka, vererUj tunka_ = I know you, deceitful creature (Cardassian)


	7. Every Glittering Kiss

**7\. Every Glittering Kiss - Janeway (III)**  
**Stardate 51138.8**  
  
_In a perfect world, you could fuck people without giving them a piece of your heart. And every glittering kiss and every touch of flesh is another shard of heart you’ll never see again._  
  
  
If I never wake up to the sickbay ceiling again, it will be too soon.  
  
“Doctor?”  
  
“Captain.” The Doctor appears at my bedside, tricorder out. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Fine,” I lie. “Report.”  
  
“You appear to have fainted during your beam-out from the Xen’tu ship. I expect you can blame it on your habit of taking minimal rest and nutrition. I’ve provided you with a hypospray that should stabilise your electrolytes and restore some much-needed vitamins into your system.” He finishes his scan and flips the tricorder closed. “You’re cleared to return to duty.”  
  
_Xen’tu ship?_  
  
My head hurts too much to make sense of this right now. “Could I have an analgesic?”  
  
The Doctor presses a hypospray to my throat. “Commander Chakotay informs me that the negotiations are progressing well, and you’ve been invited to return to Captain Kli’xek’s ship to finalise them tomorrow. Until then, Captain, might I suggest a hot meal? And eight hours’ sleep tonight won’t hurt, either.”  
  
“Thank you.” I slide down from the biobed and stride out into the hallway, where I stop short.  
  
I’ve never heard of the Xen’tu. This is clearly not my original universe. I know I should brief the senior staff immediately and get them working on the information I’ve gathered so far each time I’ve shifted realities to figure out why the last attempt to send me home failed.  
  
Right now, though, all I want is a little time alone.  
  
“Computer, what time is it?”  
  
~The time is 1603 hours.~  
  
The start of Beta shift; the Janeway of this universe would be returning to the bridge right now. I step into the turbolift. “Deck one, ready room. Computer, send a message to the bridge that I’ll be in my ready room.”  
  
~Acknowledged,~ the computer replies as the turbolift whisks me upward.  
  
In the ready room, I pull the other Janeway’s computer toward me. “Computer, list crew complement of the USS _Voyager_ , beginning with senior staff.”  
  
_First officer, Cmdr Chakotay; tactical chief, Lt Tuvok; flight controller, Lt Thomas Paris; chief engineer, Lt Joseph Carey …_  
  
“Computer, pause display.” I stare at the monitor. “Where is B’Elanna Torres?”  
  
~Lieutenant B’Elanna Torres’ status was recorded as killed in action on Stardate 48785.8.~  
  
The Vidiians. I scrub my hands over my face. God, how has this ship survived without B’Elanna?  
  
“Continue display.”  
  
_Operations officer, Ens Harry Kim; chief medical officer, Emergency Medical Hologram; medical assistant, Kes …_  
  
“Pause,” I order again. This time, I’m smiling. I hadn’t seen Kes in sickbay, but now I resolve to return as soon as possible.  
  
Another thought occurs to me. “Is Seven of Nine aboard?”  
  
~Negative. There is no crewmember by that designation aboard the USS _Voyager_.~  
  
“Computer, display all captain’s logs pertaining to the Borg.”  
  
The console chirrups and I’m watching myself describing the discovery of a Borg corpse on the Sakari homeworld. “Skip to the next log.”  
  
_Captain’s log, stardate 50695.1,_ my counterpart recites. _We’ve encountered a species known as the Mikhal Travelers at the border of the Nekrit Expanse. I’ve made contact with a Traveler called Zahir, who has agreed to supply us with stellar maps spanning through and beyond the unstable region of space ahead of us. He claims to have travelled past the far reaches of the Expanse and has warned us that it borders Borg territory. He recommends we follow a course that will take us around Borg space, and has suggested a number of different routes._  
  
Clearly, this Janeway followed Zahir’s advice. So, no encounter with Riley Frazier and her cooperative, no battle with Species 8472, no attempted alliance with the Borg.  
  
“Display the course of the USS _Voyager_ through this quadrant,” I order, and the screen switches to a star chart with a course that begins at the Caretaker’s array, meanders through Kazon and Vidiian space, Swarm territory, the Nekrit Expanse…  
  
Wait. The stardates don’t match up; this _Voyager_ should have emerged from the Expanse a good three months later than it did. Somewhere along the way, they’ve made up some time.  
  
A wormhole? Some kind of borrowed technology? I trace the stardate anomaly backwards, and then I realise.  
  
This ship never backtracked to New Earth.  
  
But this Chakotay and Janeway are registered members of the crew, so that must mean they were never stranded there.  
  
I wonder what that means for their relationship. Considering that New Earth was a pivotal experience in both previous realities I’ve experienced – and, if I’m honest, in my own – never being marooned together might mean their interactions in this universe are completely different.  
  
But that kind of speculation will have to wait. I turn back to the star map on my screen. This ship’s current location is ten thousand light years further from Earth than where my _Voyager_ sails. And the course they’re currently following will add another two decades to their journey.  
  
I wonder how this Janeway has reconciled that, in her mind. Had she considered taking the risk and entering Borg space anyway? Or had it never occurred to her? Did the loss of B’Elanna, with all her fire and ingenuity, convince that other captain that there would be no miracles for this _Voyager?_  
  
And on a more selfish note, how am I supposed to get home without help from B’Elanna or Seven?  
  
=/\=  
  
Still avoiding the crew, I order soup and crackers from the replicator in the ready room and eat a solitary dinner at the desk, perusing the other captain’s official logs. It’s curiosity that drives me, though whether I’m trying to understand her or find reasons to second-guess myself and my own decisions, I couldn’t say.  
  
At 1930 hours the Doctor comms me to suggest – rather acerbically – that I follow his earlier order to get some rest – “and I don’t mean continue to work in your quarters, Captain, I mean _rest_.” I grumble about it, but privately concede he’s got a point. I didn’t sleep last night, after all. I switch off my console and head for deck three.  
  
Yawning, eyes half-closed, I enter my code and step into my darkened quarters. Tired and distracted as I am, I barely have a moment to realise I’m not alone before I’m roughly grabbed and pushed up against the bulkhead, my arms twisted tight behind my back, my face pressed to smooth duranium. One hand grips my wrists together in the small of my back, and as I open my mouth to scream, another clamps down over it.  
  
I struggle, kick, wriggle, but a body presses up against me, immobilising me, and I feel the cold click of metal cuffs around my wrists. I manage to get my teeth around one of the strong fingers across my mouth and hear a pained hiss as I bite into it, but my attacker simply clamps his fingers under my chin, holding my mouth closed. And then I feel his other hand curving around my waist, pushing inside my jacket and under my turtleneck, sliding up, up, over my breast.  
  
Fear pulses through me and my body stiffens, and then just as my instincts are about to take over and I determine to fight this, fight him, I feel lips against my neck, a light grazing of teeth, and I recognise his scent. Shock holds me still, my muscles loosening of their own volition.  
  
“That’s more like it, Kathryn,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear as his fingers trace the underside of my breast, pushing my shirt up on his wrist. “Things go so much more smoothly when you behave yourself.”  
  
There’s cool air on my stomach; he’s pushed my shirt up to my neck and is taking advantage of his access to my bare skin. His fingertips brush my nipple, circling, and I hear him chuckle as it hardens at his touch. He presses against me from behind, letting his hand smooth downward, thumbing open the fastening to my pants.  
  
“ _Chakotay_ ,” I try to protest from behind his palm, but all that comes out is a close-mouthed moan. He slips a knee between my legs and taps my ankles apart. His hand is inside my clothes now, stroking and curling, and this time my moan is unmistakable. He bends to suck lightly at the point where my jaw curves into my neck, and I barely realise I’m tilting my head to allow him access.  
  
He dips a finger inside me and curls it forward as the heel of his hand presses on my clitoris, and I can’t help bucking sharply, a groan caught in my throat. “Good girl,” he murmurs approvingly as I start to push my hips against his slick, stroking fingers, and the sheer _condescension_ of it brings me back to myself. My eyes, which had been drifting shut, snap open.  
  
“I want both hands to touch you,” he says in my ear. “So I’m going to take my hand off your mouth now, and you’re not going to make a sound, are you?”  
  
Glad he can’t see the triumph I’m sure is flashing in my eyes, I shake my head.  
  
His hand lifts, and I bark out, “Janeway to sec-”  
  
Before I can finish, the hand is clamped back down. “What the hell, Kathryn?” he hisses. “You really want Tuvok to come storming in here and find you like this? Is that some new kink you haven’t told me about?”  
  
I blink as his words sink in. “This is some kind of _game?_ ” I try to mumble against his imprisoning fingers.  
  
“What?” he asks, and I growl to let him know I want to speak.  
  
He loosens his fingers enough to let me grit out, “Let go of me _now_ , Commander. I’m not kidding.”  
  
I feel him hesitate, then he withdraws his fingers from inside me and drops the hand covering my mouth, stepping back. I try to move my hands and am reminded of the cuffs.  
  
“Get them _off_ me.”  
  
He presses the release button and the cuffs drop to the floor. I yank down my shirt and fasten my pants, suck in a breath, and face him.  
  
Chakotay’s jaw is tight, his arms crossed over his chest – his _naked_ chest, I can’t help noticing, thankful he’s still wearing pants at least. “Care to explain?” he demands.  
  
I straighten my shoulders. “I don’t know what kind of … _activities_ you and your captain are used to indulging in, Commander, but _I’m not her_.”  
  
His only response is a raised eyebrow.  
  
I try again. “I’m Captain Janeway, but I’m from an alternate universe. There was a quantum rift and a transporter accident, and I’ve been…” I trail off as I see him smirking. “What?”  
  
“You always were imaginative,” he replies. “How do we play this one? I’m the Maquis brute and you’re the innocent, trapped Starfleet waif? Or are _you_ going to tie _me_ up this time?”  
  
“This isn’t a joke,” I snap, then press a hand to my head, which has unsurprisingly started pounding again. “Look, Commander – could we sit down? We clearly have a few things to sort out.”  
  
“Be my guest,” he says sarcastically, waving a hand toward the couch. The captain’s couch, in the captain’s quarters, in which he is clearly quite comfortable. I take the armchair instead, in case he gets any ideas about sitting too close to me. He doesn’t miss it, of course, as he settles on the couch opposite my chair.  
  
I tear my gaze away from his bare torso. “Would you mind getting dressed first?”  
  
He snorts, but snags his undershirt from the floor and pulls it on. “Okay,” he says, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m listening.”  
  
=/\=  
  
By the time I’ve finished telling him my story, the sardonic smirk has been completely wiped from his face.  
  
“So you and your Chakotay are the only ones you’ve encountered in all this quantum shifting who don’t have a, uh, sexual relationship?”  
  
I glare at him. “That’s really the salient fact you’re taking from all of this?”  
  
“Well, you have to admit it does seem like there’s some kind of kismet factor at play here,” he mutters, then holds up his hands as my glare intensifies. “All right, okay. So we figure out how to get you back home. Where do you want to start?”  
  
“Unfortunately, we don’t have B’Elanna’s expertise to call on –” I start unthinkingly, then halt at how completely insensitive that statement is. Chakotay’s face is frozen. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.  
  
He gives a short nod.  
  
“Seven of Nine’s efforts were invaluable as well, although obviously she’s not here. But I’m pretty sure I can build on what the three of us figured out together. Harry Kim should work with me, and I’m sure Lieutenant Carey can pick up most of it.”  
  
“Seven of Nine?”  
  
“A former drone we liberated from the – never mind,” I sigh. “I don’t know what kind of protocols apply in this situation, but it’s probably best I don’t pass on too much information. Who knows what could contaminate your future?”  
  
“Right,” he mutters, getting to his feet. “I’ll have Kim and Carey meet us in engineering.”  
  
“You don’t have to be there,” I fire back immediately. Right now, I’d be a lot more comfortable if this Chakotay were as far away from me as possible.  
  
He raises an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you and she were the same person after all.”  
  
I stand, hands going automatically to my hips at his challenging tone. “And why is that, Commander?”  
  
“Let’s just say she’s not known for her excessive trust in me.”  
  
“She made you her first officer, too,” I point out.  
  
“Yes,” he agrees. “And then she spent the next three years treating me like some kind of over-promoted lackey. Yes Captain, no Captain, how high, Captain.”  
  
“I can’t believe that.”  
  
“Well, she’s a little different after hours. Likes to take the pips off then.” He folds his arms, looks me up and down. “Or have them bitten off.”  
  
I can feel the colour heating my face.  
  
“Mind you, she gives as good as she gets,” he goes on conversationally, taking a measured step or two towards me. “When she invites me here for dinner I never know if I’m going to be meeting the buttoned-up captain,” he’s close enough now that I can feel the heat radiating from his body, “or someone Starfleet wouldn’t even recognise.”  
  
I’m finding it hard to breathe.  
  
“How did it come to this?” I’m not really asking, but he answers anyway.  
  
“Seska.”  
  
I jerk back.  
  
“I was still sleeping with her when she betrayed us to the Kazon,” he goes on, grimacing. “Kathryn wasn’t too happy when she found out.”  
  
“You …” I have to swallow against the sudden dryness in my throat. Did my Chakotay lie to me about that, too?  
  
“She came to my quarters the night Seska took off.” He’s looking at my face, but it’s clear I’m not the captain he’s seeing. “Gave me a thorough dressing-down about inappropriate fraternisation. I got angry. I grabbed her, kind of pushed her up against the wall. But _she’s_ the one who kissed _me_.”  
  
She kissed him - and presumably, more than that - so early in the journey? I’m finding this incredibly hard to believe -  
  
God, he’s still talking.  
  
“One minute she’s reprimanding me for not keeping my dick in my pants, the next she’s on her knees trying to suck the whole thing into her mouth. At that moment I wasn’t sure if she was going to bite it off or swallow me alive.”  
  
He grins suddenly, his eyes focusing on mine.  
  
“She’s a wildcat in bed,” he says silkily, and I flinch as he traces one finger along the line of my jaw, his other hand circling my wrist and tugging me toward him. “Something tells me you would be, too.”  
  
“Get. Your hands. Off me. _Now_.”  
  
He laughs, letting me go. “She swore it was a one-time thing, and for a long time she kept her word. Then she discovered Seska had an ally on board, and she conspired with Tuvok and Paris to root him out. Kept me out of the loop. I was pretty pissed off when I found out. Not surprised, though. She never did trust me.”  
  
He moves away, ambling casually around the room, trailing his fingers over surfaces as he talks. I can’t take my eyes off him.  
  
“I confronted her about it in her ready room after Jonas got himself vaporised. Threw my rank bar down on her desk, told her I wanted off her ship. I meant it, too. I guess she could tell, because the next thing I know she’s got her hands in my pants. When I fucked her that time she begged me to stay. I told her I would on one condition. I’m sure you can guess what it was.”  
  
“I don’t believe you.” I feel sick. I would never behave that way. _Never_. And neither would the Chakotay I know.  
  
He shrugs. “Maybe you’re different people after all. Maybe not.” He circles back to me, too close; I hold myself perfectly still. “Maybe you’ve thought about it.”  
  
“No.”  
  
_Yes_.  
  
He cocks an eyebrow and I can’t help flushing.  
  
“Thinking about something and actually _doing_ it are not the same, Commander. And I don’t need to use sex to get what I want…”  
  
Even as I say the words, I remember flirting with Gath, the Sikarian First Minister, trying to convince him to let us use their space-folding technology. I think about impersonating a prostitute to gain access to the prison on the Mokra homeworld. And then there were missions I’d undertaken long before we landed in the Delta quadrant. Letting the Talarian ambassador chat me up at a ball on Betazed at a time when the Federation-Talar alliance was on new and shaky ground. Inviting myself to an intimate dinner at the home of a Bajoran vedek Starfleet had suspected of colluding with the Maquis. Sitting in a dingy bar on Regulon, draping myself over a Ferengi who’d made a few too many suspicious trips between Cardassian space and the Orion Syndicate.  
  
And I think about the way I’ve long behaved with my first officer - all the touches, the candlelit dinners, the lingering glances and suggestive teasing – and my protest dies in my throat.  
  
I can’t excuse what that other Kathryn Janeway was apparently willing to do to keep her first officer on her ship and by her side. But neither can I unequivocally declare that I might not, in her circumstances, have done exactly as she did.  
  
And my Chakotay… I remember how consumed with anger he was when he first came on board _Voyager_ , how grim and battle-hardened, how accustomed he was to a hard-scrabble, cynical life. What if he’d believed from the start that I never really trusted him? What if I’d proven it, over and over? What if we’d never become friends? What if I’d seduced him early on in the journey in deed as well as in thought? Would he have taken any advantage he could grasp, used any weapon in his arsenal, to secure the safety of himself and his crew?  
  
Maybe if the captain and commander of this world had been stranded together as my Chakotay and I were, they’d have moved past this power struggle and found a more equitable, less adversarial relationship. Maybe not.  
  
“All right.” I draw myself upright, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Point taken, Commander.”  
  
“Then, if we’re not going to get naked,” and there’s that smirk I want to slap right off his face, “I suggest we get down to engineering.”  
  
=/\=  
  
I explain my predicament to the two officers I’ve selected to help me, then assign Lieutenant Carey to work on stabilising the transporter targeting scanners and Ensign Kim to realign the deflector to emit the subspace differential pulse. By two in the morning we’re ready to make our first test attempt. As we walk to the transporter room I find myself weaving a little, my feet unsteady. Chakotay catches my arm.  
  
“When did you last get some sleep?” he asks me quietly.  
  
I have to think about it. “Two universes ago,” I answer finally.  
  
Chakotay stops short, still holding my elbow. “Lieutenant,” he says in his normal voice. “Carry on with the tests and report your findings to Captain Janeway in the morning.”  
  
“Excuse me, Commander?” I try to summon up a glare but find my eyes are almost crossing with fatigue.  
  
He hides a smirk. “I believe the Doctor ordered you to rest, Captain. I’ll escort you to your quarters.”  
  
I plant my feet mulishly. Carey and Kim have stopped a few respectful metres away and are glancing between us.  
  
Chakotay leans in. “You’re exhausted,” he says, his voice flat. “And from what you’ve told me, this universe-shifting is pretty hard on the body. You need to be at your best. It won’t kill you to wait a few hours.”  
  
“Fine,” I snap, too tired to continue arguing. “You supervise the tests. I don’t need your help getting to my quarters, thank you.”  
  
I turn on my heel and promptly stagger, bracing a hand against the bulkhead to keep from falling. Chakotay is beside me in an instant, his hand warm on my lower back.  
  
“Yeah, I can see you don’t need help. No arguments, Captain. I’ll see you home. Besides,” he adds, his voice lower as he guides me into the turbolift, “ _our_ Captain Janeway was scheduled to continue negotiations with the Xen’tu in the morning. They seem to be a somewhat unforgiving race and we need their minerals. If we can’t guarantee her return, I’ll need you to take her place.”  
  
I stare at him. “In my universe, I’ve never met the Xen’tu. I can’t step midway into a negotiation without a briefing first.”  
  
“All right,” he answers as we step out on deck three. “I’ll brief you now. And after that, you go to bed.”  
  
I start to protest, not even knowing what I’m objecting to anymore, but am overtaken by a yawn. Chakotay snorts. We’re at the door to my quarters now, and he leans over me and enters the access code then ushers me inside.  
  
“Sit,” he orders, moving to the replicator, and I sink onto the couch before my knees can give out. He returns with a steaming mug of something that’s definitely not coffee.  
  
“What is this?” I demand suspiciously.  
  
“Chamomile tea.” He hands it to me, and grins when I screw my face up at the taste. “Trust me, you do not need any more caffeine in your system. This will help you sleep.”  
  
“I doubt I’ll need any help in that area,” I mutter. “You’d better talk fast, Commander.”  
  
“Kathryn was speaking with a Captain Kli’xek. The Xen’tu are warp-capable, obviously, but only since about a century ago. They’ve just come out of a long conflict with a neighbouring species and the majority of other contacts they’ve made since they became space-faring have been less than successful. They were highly suspicious of us at first, even fired off a few shots before we disabled their weapons. Kathryn had to do some fast talking to convince them we were friendly, and they refused to meet us on _Voyager_. She and Tuvok had to transport to their ship.”  
  
“Where are you up to in the negotiations?”  
  
“Fine-tuning. We’ve agreed on a trade. Their ships are composed mostly of paricium, which has become a fairly rare element in their solar system. We’ll replicate sixty barrels of paricium in exchange for seven tons of polysilicate verterium and twelve of monocrystal cortenide. Carey’s confident he can composite them into verterium cortenide. Should be enough to reinforce the warp coils for a good few thousand light years.”  
  
“Speaking of which,” I wrap my fingers around the cup and settle back against the couch, “it seems you’re still on course for Earth, despite taking a twenty-year detour around Borg space. I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’d had a conversation with your captain about that.”  
  
“You mean instead of accepting we’ll probably never get back to the Alpha quadrant and finding a planet to colonise? Oh, we’ve had that conversation.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And we disagree.” He shrugs. “She’s the captain.”  
  
“Oh, so you _do_ still respect that?” I can’t help asking him, somewhat tartly.  
  
To my surprise, I can’t read his expression. “I always have.”  
  
“Then what the hell –” I break off. I _really_ don’t want to discuss their relationship again.  
  
It’s too late, though. He leans back in his corner of the couch, legs stretched out, his gaze on my face. For the first time since we met, his voice loses that cocky tone.  
  
“I told you before that I agreed to stay on board if she’d consent to warm my bed. But that’s not the whole truth.” He tugs at his earlobe, not meeting my eyes. “I guess you know about my background - why I left Starfleet to join the Maquis?”  
  
He glances up long enough to see my nod.  
  
“I’d lost all respect for the Federation and Starfleet. But when she offered to work with me to get our people back - when she destroyed the Caretaker’s array – I knew then that she was someone I could respect. Someone I would follow, wherever she led. I trusted her from the first day we met, so when it became clear that she didn’t trust me that same way, it cut me pretty deep.”  
  
He looks down at his hands.  
  
“It took me a while to understand why I made that deal with her – that I’d stay on in exchange for being with her. Longer than it should have, probably. About six months after Jonas was killed, Kathryn took Paris and Tuvok on an away mission to a planet called Akritiri. They were accused of mounting a terrorist attack and sent to prison. It was two weeks before we found them and mounted a rescue. Kathryn had been beaten so badly she was in sickbay for a week afterward. And I realised then why I hadn’t slept almost the whole time she was gone, why I spent every moment I wasn’t on duty by her bedside.”  
  
He smiles, and his whole face lights up. I suck in a breath, unable to take my eyes off him.  
  
“You know why, don’t you?” he says as his eyes search mine. “Don’t pretend it isn’t the same in your universe.”  
  
I shake my head slightly, but it’s not a denial, and he knows it.  
  
“I guess I live in hope,” he says softly.  
  
I wonder if his hopes will ever be realised. It seems to me that they might fade long before she ever grants them. They’ve started this all wrong, just like the Janeway and Chakotay in the previous universe I visited. They should have built their friendship first.  
  
God, I need to be alone right now.  
  
“Well, it’s late.” I place my mug decisively on the low table and stand, swaying slightly, as he stands to face me. “I think I’ll go to bed.”  
  
He grins, raising an eyebrow. “Want me to tuck you in?”  
  
I can’t stifle the laugh that bubbles out. The sheer audacity of him … “Thank you, but I can manage.”  
  
Something makes me step close and place my hand on his chest. He looks down at me, his lips curled at the corners, and his hand comes up to clasp mine.  
  
“Good night, Chakotay,” I murmur.  
  
“Good night, Kathryn.”  
  
I fall asleep smiling.  
  
=/\=  
  
It feels as though I’ve barely closed my eyes when the alarm wakes me at 0600. I calculate that I’ve had about three hours’ sleep in the past forty-eight, and the mirror tells me I look like it. I borrow some makeup from this Captain Janeway’s supply and help myself to a double-strength espresso or two from her replicator.  
  
Lieutenant Carey and Ensign Kim are waiting for me in the transporter room at 0700. “Captain, during your last transport you said you heard someone mention a tachyon surge,” Harry says immediately. “We think that surge was the reason the transport attempt terminated in the wrong universe. It probably interfered with the annular confinement beam.”  
  
“If we tune the deflector pulse to an inverse tachyon field as well as running the transporter energising coils above maximum, we think we can stabilise the matter stream enough to compensate for any tachyon flux during transport,” Joe continues. “We’ve conducted three successful tests using biospecimen containers.”  
  
“Good work, gentlemen. After I’ve met with the Xen’tu, will you be ready to try the real thing?”  
  
“We’ll be ready when you are, ma’am.” Carey smiles at me.  
  
“Then I’ll be back as soon as I –”  
  
The deck bucks beneath my feet. Red lights pulse along the bulkheads, klaxons blare, and Chakotay’s voice comes over the comm.  
  
~Red alert. Captain to the bridge.~  
  
_Voyager_ dips and shakes, and I’m halfway out into the corridor before he’s finished speaking, Harry on my heels. “The Xen’tu?” I ask him as we enter the turbolift.  
  
“Could be, Captain.” Harry’s mouth is set. “Our first meeting didn’t start out too well. I thought you’d established good relations with them, though. I mean, our captain did. Her progress reports indicated it was going well.”  
  
The ‘lift deposits us on the bridge and I stride down to the command level, staggering as the ship takes another hit. “Report.”  
  
Chakotay looks up from the console between our chairs. “Another Xen’tu ship just dropped out of warp and started firing on us. I’ve tried hailing them and the ship we’ve been liaising with, but Captain Kli’xek insists he’ll only speak with you.”  
  
“Status?”  
  
“Shields at thirty-eight percent. Weapons are powered and at the ready, but they outgun us, Captain.”  
  
“Hail them.” I draw myself up. “This is Captain Kathryn Janeway to the Xen’tu ships. Cease your attack or we’ll be forced to defend ourselves.”  
  
The viewscreen changes and I’m looking at an imposing, yellow-skinned humanoid. Whorls of skin pattern his temples and jaw, and his head is topped with a tufted grey-and-white mohawk.  
  
“Kli’xek,” Chakotay murmurs to me softly.  
  
“Captain,” I address him. “Why has your ship fired on us?”  
  
~I will explain,~ Kli’xek answers quickly. ~But I’m not prepared to do so over an open communications line.~  
  
“Very well. I’ll contact you on a secure line from my ready room. Janeway out.”  
  
As the screen returns to a view of the two enormous Xen’tu ships hanging in space, I jerk my head at Chakotay. “Join me, Commander?”  
  
He stands at ease out of sight of my console as I activate a comm link to Kli’xek’s ship.  
  
~Captain,~ Kli’xek greets me. ~I apologise for this unwarranted attack.~  
  
“Would you mind telling me why your ship fired on us?”  
  
~The ship that fired on you is not an official representative of our people. Unfortunately, in the wake of our war with the Qailar, several factions have rebelled against the government on our homeworld. One faction has gained significant support in the past few years and has declared independence. Its ships roam the sector, attacking both our own vessels and those who attempt to trade with us.~  
  
“And you didn’t think to mention this before?”  
  
~I apologise, Captain. I did not expect any trouble.~  
  
“Captain Kli’xek, we follow a prime directive that does not allow us to interfere in the internal politics of alien species. You’ve put me in an extremely difficult position.”  
  
The alien begins to shift uncomfortably. ~I regret that, Captain. But we need your paricium. I would be willing to double our contribution of the minerals you require if you’ll consent to trade with us.~  
  
“What about that other ship? Won’t they resume attacking us if I agree?”  
  
~My ship is a match for theirs, Captain, and they know it. I’ve warned them to stand down. I would prefer to avoid a conflict, but if necessary I will protect your vessel from them.~  
  
I can’t help sighing, rubbing my temples against the headache that’s making its reappearance. “Allow me a few minutes to confer with my first officer, Captain. I’ll contact you shortly. Janeway out.”  
  
As soon as the screen goes blank I look up at Chakotay. “Well, here we are. What do you think, Commander?”  
  
“We could go a long way with the verterium cortenide we’d get out of those minerals,” he answers. “And Kli’xek’s ship might be able to take them on, but _Voyager_ would take some heavy damage in a fight.”  
  
“But can we trade with him?”  
  
“You’re worried about the Prime Directive, and you’re right to be. But you know we’ve had to bend the rules on occasion out here.”  
  
“That doesn’t make it right.”  
  
He drops into the seat opposite. “Then how about a compromise? Contact the other ship. Maybe we can come to an arrangement that suits everyone. Surely they need paricium as well, and they might have something else to trade for it. Food supplies, dilithium.” Chakotay smiles a little, dimples appearing briefly. “We might even be able to help broker a peace between these factions, even if it’s temporary.”  
  
“And we’d be breaking the Prime Directive by doing so, even if our intentions are good. You know what they say about the road to hell, Commander.” I can’t help smiling back at him, though.  
  
“It’s not as though the Federation stays out of alien politics in the Alpha quadrant,” he points out. “Acting as the peacemaker between two factions or races in conflict isn’t unheard of on a diplomatic mission. And besides, as you’ve said yourself frequently, we’re all alone out here. The more friends we can make, the better.”  
  
“And if we upset the balance of power in this sector?”  
  
He meets my gaze evenly. “It’s already upset. From the sound of it, the Xen’tu are heading for a civil war. If peace is the desired state, don’t we have an obligation to help them reach it?”  
  
The corner of my mouth quirks up. “You can be extremely persuasive when you want to be, Chakotay.”  
  
The look in his dark eyes is undeniably smoky as he gazes back at me. “Yes, I can, Kathryn.”  
  
I sit up, trying not to blush. “Well, thank you for your input, Commander. I need to get back to Kli’xek now. If you’ll excuse me?”  
  
Smiling a little, he gets to his feet and ambles out of the ready room. I have to take a calming breath before I reactivate the comm link.  
  
~What is your decision, Captain?~  
  
“I’d like to invite you and a representative from the other ship to join me on _Voyager_ ,” I answer. “I’m hoping we can come to an arrangement that suits all parties.”  
  
~I would be prepared to accommodate your request, Captain, but I doubt the other captain will agree.~  
  
“Who’s in charge on the other ship?”  
  
~The captain of the vessel is called Mhink. Allow me to contact him to present your proposal.~  
  
“It might help if you patch me through to him.”  
  
~Very well. Activating multi-way channel.~  
  
The screen splits, displaying another yellow-skinned, mohawked Xen’tu. This one looks decidedly less friendly than Kli’xek.  
  
“Captain Mhink,” I greet him. “I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway of _Voyager_. I’d like to assure you that we have no hostile intentions toward you. We’re strangers to this part of space and were unaware of your political situation.”  
  
~What do you want from us?~  
  
“A face to face meeting would be a good place to start. Perhaps we can find something in common if we talk.”  
  
~Doubtful,~ Mhink retorts. ~Our experience with alien races has been unpleasant.~  
  
“I’m hoping we can prove the exception. I’d also be amenable to discussing trade options with you, as well as with your fellow captain. Would you transport to my ship?”  
  
~No,~ he says decisively. ~But you may transport to mine.~  
  
I’ve been hoping he wouldn’t suggest that. “Unfortunately, Captain, I’m unable to use our transporter at present. I’ll send my first officer in my place.”  
  
~Unacceptable,~ he snaps back. ~I will only deal with the highest-ranked officer on your ship.~  
  
“Then I’ll take a shuttle –”  
  
~Be here in twenty _dhi’mars_ ,~ he interrupts. The universal translator hesitates, then interprets that as _five minutes._ There’s no way a shuttle will get me over there in time. Mhink continues, ~If you delay, I will open fire.~  
  
“You aren’t leaving me much of a choice,” I clip out. “And Captain Kli’xek? May he join us?”  
  
Mhink’s eyes cut sideways to where I assume Kli’xek’s image appears on his viewscreen, and he gives a short nod.  
  
“Then I’ll see you soon.”  
  
I cut the channel and head for the bridge, tilting my head to indicate Chakotay should follow me. I fill him in en route to the transporter room.  
  
“You can’t use the transporter,” he says immediately. “From what you’ve told me, you have just as much chance of shifting to another universe as ending up on that Xen’tu ship.”  
  
“I don’t seem to have much choice. If I don’t go, we risk putting _Voyager_ in the middle of a civil conflict.” I dismiss the ensign at the controls and step up onto the transporter pad. “Set coordinates, Commander.”  
  
“Kathryn,” he says urgently. “You can’t do this. Let me go in your place.”  
  
“Mhink won’t deal with anyone but me.”  
  
“There’s no need for you to put yourself in this kind of danger.” He steps up to take my hands, his eyes pleading. “We’ll find another way.”  
  
“The clock’s ticking, Chakotay,” I tell him softly. “And this is my decision to make.”  
  
Slowly the urgency dies out of his eyes. “It always is,” he answers, his voice low, and lets go of my hands, returning to the console. “Coordinates set, Captain.”  
  
“Energise.”  
  
“Good luck,” he says quietly.  
  
The transporter locks onto me and I hold my breath as I watch Chakotay’s face through the familiar blue swirl of dematerialisation. Then there’s agony so harsh, so horrifying, that it steals my senses, and I sink gratefully into unconsciousness.


	8. Walking Away

**8\. Walking Away - Chakotay (IV)**  
**Stardate 51137.6**  
  
_Nobody will ever hurt her. She’ll just smile her faint vague wonderful smile and walk away._  
  
  
“Chakotay.”  
  
The voice is female. Soft, slightly husky, worried.  
  
“Chakotay, wake up.”  
  
My eyes open a crack as I wince against the sick pounding in my head. Someone is leaning over me, her face in shadow, the tips of her long hair tickling my cheek. I’m on my back, her hand pressed lightly to my chest. My head spins.  
  
“Kathryn?”  
  
I hear a sharp intake of breath and the hand is removed. I struggle to focus, propping myself up on my elbows. Faint light filters through the viewport and as my eyes adjust I can see the outlines of furniture – a bureau, a chair, the dark rectangle of an open doorway. The surface beneath my back is thicker and softer than a biobed.  
  
I’m in someone’s quarters – my own? It’s too dark to tell. With effort, clenching my teeth against nausea, I sit upright. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed and in the almost-dark I can feel the tension vibrating from her.  
  
“Computer, lights to twenty percent,” I order.  
  
The face that’s illuminated is so unexpected that it takes me a moment to come to full recognition.  
  
_“Riley?”_  
  
She stares at me, her lips pressed together. Her eyes are shadowed with something I recognise as hurt. My eyes follow the movement of her hand as she splays it protectively over her swollen abdomen.  
  
Why –  
  
_No._  
  
“What are you doing here?” I blurt, refusing to let the implications form in my mind.  
  
She flinches, and I watch as she deliberately composes herself. “Chakotay, I think we should get you to sickbay. Something’s wrong.”  
  
_You can say that again_. I take mental stock of my body and note with relief that I’m fully clothed, boots and all, in the civilian gear I was wearing to impersonate the Maquis captain of the previous universe. I sidle off the bed, keeping it between us. She stands to face me. She’s wearing a pale-blue satin nightgown and the curve of her belly is clearly visible in the low light. I swallow hard.  
  
“What happened?” I demand. I’m not sure if I’m asking about now, or before. I’m finding it hard to conceive of any universe in which Riley Frazier and I –  
  
“You had a nightmare,” Riley says, her voice even. “You were thrashing so hard I was afraid you’d hurt yourself.”  
  
A nightmare. Well, that would certainly explain _this_ situation.  
  
“Please,” she says quietly. “Come with me to sickbay and let the Doctor take a look at you.”  
  
Until I can figure out what the hell happened here, I decide it’s best to play along. Clearing my throat, I glance around and spy a uniform folded on a chair. “Give me a minute to get changed.”  
  
She doesn’t move.  
  
I scoop up the uniform, taking it with me into the ‘fresher and closing the door firmly.  
  
“Computer, what’s the time?” I ask as I strip hastily and pull on the uniform.  
  
~The time is 0534 hours.~  
  
“Who is assigned to these quarters?”  
  
~Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Riley Frazier.~  
  
My gut clenches at the confirmation of everything I’d been hoping wasn’t true.  
  
“What is Lieutenant Frazier’s position on this ship?”  
  
~Lieutenant Riley Frazier is the chief science officer.~  
  
“What date did she come aboard?”  
  
~Stardate 50639.6.~  
  
“Access Lieutenant Frazier’s medical records.” I set my teeth, then continue, “Identify the DNA contributors to her foetus. Authorisation Chakotay Pi Beta Two.”  
  
~DNA contributors identified as Lieutenant Riley Frazier and Commander Chakotay.~  
  
I sag against the bulkhead, rubbing a hand over my face. “What’s the baby’s due date?”  
  
~Stardate 51387.~  
  
I count backward, and can’t suppress a curse. It must have happened on that planet filled with excommunicated drones, when we were together after she linked with me.  
  
Rage swells inside me. Did she _plan_ this? Am I destined to fall victim to women who use me in this most devastatingly personal of ways?  
  
“Chakotay?” I hear a quiet tap on the door. “Are you all right?”  
  
“I’ll be right out.” It takes all my willpower to keep the anger from my voice. Breathing deeply, I push open the door.  
  
Riley stands there, her face clouded. “What time did you get home last night? I didn’t hear you come in.”  
  
“Uh, I don’t know.”  
  
She sighs. “This has to stop, Chakotay. You can’t be out drinking with Ayala at all hours when the baby comes.”  
  
I can’t help shuffling my feet.  
  
She looks like she wants to say something else, and clearly thinks better of it. “How are you feeling now?”  
  
“Fine.” I try for a rueful smile. “I’m just a little hungover. I don’t think it’s necessary to go to sickbay.”  
  
“Are you sure?” She steps closer, eyes on my face. “You were disoriented when I woke you.”  
  
“Of course.” I back away. “Uh, the bathroom’s yours. I need to check my schedule for today. Computer, audio readout of Commander Chakotay’s appointment schedule,” I request before she can object.  
  
~Meeting with Captain Janeway in her quarters at 0600. Bridge duty commences 0800. Appointment with Ensign Megan Delaney at 1030.~  
  
I listen with half an ear as the computer drones on. Giving Riley what I hope is a reassuring smile, I turn my back on her. A moment later I hear the whine of the sonic shower.  
  
“Computer, pause.”  
  
My hands are shaking as I slump against the bulkhead, and I have to close my eyes briefly before I can bear to look around. These are my quarters, all right, but slightly altered with what I assume is Riley’s version of a woman’s touch. Lace-covered throw pillows on the couch, a couple of generic landscape prints where I’m used to seeing my sand paintings, a vase of bluebonnets on the table.  
  
I have to get out of here.  
  
“Riley?” I call through the bathroom door. “I have to go or I’ll be late for my meeting with the captain. See you later, okay?”  
  
I don’t wait for a reply.  
  
=/\=  
  
“Computer, time?”  
  
~The time is 0557 hours.~  
  
No time even to get to my office and try to figure out what the hell happened in this universe, or how it’s impacted my relationship – both professional and personal – with Kathryn. Resigning myself to making it up as I go along, I head for the captain’s quarters and press her chime.  
  
“Enter.”  
  
She’s standing at the viewport when I step inside, her back to me, wearing uniform pants and undershirt. I smell coffee and the faint floral scent of her shampoo. Glancing around, everything seems exactly as I’d expect.  
  
“Captain?”  
  
As soon as I speak, her head comes up and her back stiffens, but she doesn’t reply.  
  
Apprehensively, I step further into the room. “We have a breakfast meeting, don’t we?”  
  
I hear her draw in a breath. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”  
  
The emotion in her voice sets me back on my heels. Before I can figure out how to react, she’s turning. Her face is tight, as though she’s barely holding it together.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, and in a rush she’s in my arms, her body shuddering as she buries her face in my throat.  
  
What in the world is _she_ sorry for?  
  
Then she’s kissing me, winding her hands into my hair, holding me to her with a fierceness that speaks of desperation.  
  
I should stop this – I know I should. But she’s working at my jacket, pushing it from my shoulders, making needy little sounds in her throat as she kisses me with tongue and lips and teeth. My hands hover over her upper arms and she grabs them, pulling them onto her body. I rest them lightly, unmoving, on her ribcage, but she gives an impatient moan and twists, pressing her breast into my palm, and at her luxuriant shiver I lose all sense of what’s right and wrong.  
  
With a groan, I capitulate, gathering her close. I push my thigh between her legs, grasping her ass with one hand to clutch her against me, the other hand squirming under her tank. The skin on her stomach quivers as my fingers make contact. My thumb rubs over her nipple and she gasps, breaking our kiss, her head falling back. My mouth latches onto the pulse point in her throat, sucking greedily at her skin. I want to brand her, mark her as mine.  
  
Except, sanity reminds me, she isn’t.  
  
“Kathryn,” I half-groan, trying to stop myself from kissing her pale throat, trying to still my hands on her body.  
  
She pushes closer, tugging my turtleneck out of my pants, her nails scratching lightly up my back. “God, I miss you,” she almost sobs. One of her hands wanders, trailing over my hip, her slender fingers curling around the swelling in my pants. I can’t help thrusting into her hand. _“Yes,”_ she hisses, and begins to slide down the length of my body. Her knees hit the floor and her fingers are working at my zipper before I come to my senses.  
  
“Kathryn, stop!”  
  
Her hands still and she heaves in a shuddering breath, her head bowed.  
  
“Please stand up.” My voice is still shaky with desire, but as gentle as I can make it. It takes a moment, but she nods, rising to her feet and moving away without looking at me.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she says after a long silence during which I wonder how I can possibly explain everything – and what the hell I was thinking stopping her. “That was incredibly unprofessional of me. Not to mention selfish.”  
  
“Kathryn –” I hesitate, then decide on honesty. “What just happened - you have no idea how badly I wish I could have let you continue. But I’m not who you think I am.”  
  
She laughs without humour. “Yes, you are, Chakotay. You’re a good, honest man who’s trying to do the right thing. I’m the one who keeps dragging you back into – this.”  
  
“This?” Despite myself, I can’t shut off my curiosity.  
  
“This. Us.” She waves a hand, turning to flick a glance at me. “I know as well as you do that it’s wrong. You’ve told me it can’t happen anymore, and I have to respect that.” Her voice catches on the last few words.  
  
I can barely believe what I’m beginning to understand. The Chakotay of this universe chose Riley Frazier over Kathryn Janeway?  
  
“How long –” I stop, realising I’m going to have to give her some answers before I can ask any more questions. “Kathryn, please, come sit with me.”  
  
“Chakotay, I think you should go –”  
  
“Please.”  
  
She moves hesitantly, perching on the edge of her couch with her hands clasped in her lap, but at least she’s finally looking me in the eye.  
  
“This is going to sound crazy,” I begin, “but when I said I’m not who you think I am, I was speaking literally, not metaphorically …”  
  
=/\=  
  
She doesn’t say anything for what seems like forever after I’ve finished telling her the fantastic tale of the past few days.  
  
“Kathryn?”  
  
She holds up a hand, then gets off the couch to pace. “A quantum rift?” she says finally, turning to me with hands on hips. “As far as I know, we haven’t detected that phenomenon.”  
  
“If you send out a subspace differential pulse, you should be able to detect it. In the last universe, B’Elanna speculated that the rift is somehow linked to _Voyager_ , as well as to my captain and myself. We didn’t get to the point of figuring out how or why. B’Elanna believed it was related to the tachyon discharge that hit both of us.”  
  
“You said _Voyager_ most likely tried to beam you out before the shuttle’s core breached,” Kathryn notes. “Maybe the transporter beam intersected with the tachyon particles and created some kind of tethering effect.”  
  
“You’re the scientist,” I smile.  
  
“We’ll need to get B’Elanna and Harry on it,” she says absently. “And Seven, and…” She stops, sending me a look I can’t quite read. “And the chief science officer.”  
  
“You mean, uh, Lieutenant Frazier.”  
  
“Yes.” She sits carefully beside me. “Are you willing to tell her the truth?”  
  
“I can hardly keep her out of it.” My voice is harsher than I mean it to be. “Apparently, in this universe, we’re quite close.”  
  
A blush is working its way up from the neckline of her tank. I watch as it blooms over her pale throat and burns in her cheeks. She raises her hands to her face.  
  
“Oh, God,” she says. “What you must _think_ of me.”  
  
“To be honest, I don’t know what to think,” I mutter. “This isn’t like any of the previous realities I’ve been thrown into.”  
  
“I’m so embarrassed.” Her face is still flushed, but she drops her hands and raises her chin, meeting my eyes. “I just … _threw_ myself at you. No wonder you pushed me away –” She stops, dropping her gaze to her hands, twisting in her lap.  
  
I shift closer on the couch, ducking my head to catch her eye. “You have no idea how hard it was to stop you,” I tell her. “If you knew how badly I wanted you –”  
  
She bites her lip.  
  
“And when I said I don’t know what to think, I wasn’t judging you. I was judging him.”  
  
“Don’t,” she says quietly. “It’s … complicated.”  
  
“Will you explain it to me?”  
  
Kathryn huffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m not sure I can even explain it to myself. But I’ll try.”  
  
She goes to the replicator and brings back her coffee and a tea for me, settling herself in the armchair opposite me this time. After a fortifying sip, she begins.  
  
“About eighteen months ago, Chakotay and I contracted a virus we believed was incurable, and we were stranded on a planet in Vidiian space.” She pauses to glance at me, nods at the recognition she sees on my face. “We grew … close. It took me weeks to let go of my resistance, but eventually I couldn’t find any more reasons to deny what I knew was happening between us. We became lovers.” She closes her eyes briefly. “For two weeks, everything was perfect, until _Voyager_ returned with a cure. We resumed our roles on the ship. Chakotay pleaded with me not to let it change things for us, but I couldn’t reconcile a personal relationship with my second in command.”  
  
She gazes into her coffee, gathering her thoughts.  
  
“Shortly after that, the Kazon took _Voyager_ , and the crew was stranded on another planet - a far less hospitable one than New Earth. Chakotay believed it was his fault.”  
  
“Because of Seska.”  
  
“Yes.” She sighs. “I – tried to comfort him, and, well, we slipped up. And then we got the ship back, and once again I told him we couldn’t be together. And for months after that, we weren’t.”  
  
“But then?”  
  
“Then I had an experience that affected me quite deeply. It caused me to question everything I’d ever believed in. I needed to talk to someone about it and I chose to talk to Chakotay.”  
  
“What experience?”  
  
“Kes was injured on an away mission, and the only way we could save her was for me to undertake a ritual. It required me to put aside my belief that there was a scientific explanation for her condition and rely on faith.” She smiles a little. “You can see why Chakotay was the obvious person to help me through it.”  
  
“I’m flattered.”  
  
“Well, I suppose you can guess what happened. We made love. Afterwards, I told him it was an aberration, that I hadn’t been thinking clearly. He was devastated at the suggestion that he’d taken advantage of me. He pulled away from me after that, and I started to believe he was over me. And then I had a near-death experience, and I saw him –”  
  
“Stop,” I can’t help interrupting her. I know what she saw, and it’s too painful to talk about.  
  
When she looks at me this time her eyes are shining with tears. “I could so easily have made a different choice after that. But I was scared. I was shaken by the experience with the alien and frightened by Chakotay’s reaction to my death. So when he kissed me I pushed him away. I told him it could never happen again. He took me at my word. A few weeks later we encountered Dr Frazier and her cooperative.”  
  
She doesn’t say it, but I know what happened then. He was heartbroken and vulnerable, and Riley ... Well, Riley was there.  
  
“Kathryn, in my reality, the cooperative used their neural link to force me into reactivating the neuroelectric generator on that damaged Borg cube. After they disconnected from me, we left their space and never heard from them again.”  
  
She stares at me, then sets her cup on the table with a sharp _clack_ , bolting out of her chair. She faces the viewport, her arms crossed over her body. “That didn’t happen here,” she says, her voice strangled.  
  
“Tell me.”  
  
“Chakotay brought Dr Frazier on board to plead her case for _Voyager_ ’s help in reactivating the generator. I refused. He returned to the planet with her and she told him she’d decided to join the crew. Several other members of the cooperative came with her, all Alpha quadrant species. A Romulan medic, a Rigellian engineer, two other humans who’d been assimilated at Wolf 359.”  
  
The next question is almost too difficult to ask. “What about the, uh, Riley’s pregnancy?”  
  
Kathryn’s voice becomes monotonal. “I spoke with the Doctor after he’d examined all of our new crewmen. He informed me that Dr Frazier’s human biology had asserted itself to such a degree that conception had taken place naturally. Quite miraculous, he described it. He said she seemed pleased when told of her condition.”  
  
“I see.” I swallow against the thickness in my throat. “I assume the Doctor confirmed its parentage.”  
  
“Yes. Dr Frazier informed Chakotay of his impending fatherhood. Several days later he submitted a request to me for shared quarters.”  
  
I can’t help getting to my feet at that, moving over to her. Her shoulders are so tense I can almost see the migraine forming.  
  
I try to keep my voice even. “It’s a long way from accepting responsibility for conceiving a child to actively pursuing a relationship with the mother.”  
  
“Commander Chakotay believed it was the right thing to do.” She turns to face me and her expression is completely blank. “I gave him no reason to believe otherwise.”  
  
I’m sure my feelings are plain to see on my face.  
  
She straightens her spine. “I guess you’re wondering about what happened this morning.”  
  
“I – yes.”  
  
“I respected his decision, and their relationship. How could I do otherwise?” She turns away. “A couple of months later, Chakotay was kidnapped by the Voth. I was … very worried. After he returned, he came to my ready room to give me his report.”  
  
I can see her fists clenching at her sides.  
  
“I told him how concerned I’d been. He embraced me, and I – it was inexcusable. Afterward, I told him I intended to report my actions to Tuvok. He insisted it wasn’t necessary.”  
  
“It takes two to tango.”  
  
“He tried to take all the blame. He said everything was different now, and that it couldn’t happen again.”  
  
She pauses, but it’s clear that’s not the end of the story.  
  
“When we encountered the Borg and Species 8472, we argued over a command decision, and resolved it by doing the one thing we knew we shouldn’t. It was reprehensible. He wanted to break things off with Riley. I told him it wouldn’t make any difference to our personal relationship. He said in that case, our relationship from then on would have to remain purely professional. I intended to abide by that. It took less than a month for me to break my promise.”  
  
“The Vori,” I hazard, remembering the ill-concealed emotion on my Kathryn’s face when she came to sickbay after my rescue.  
  
“Yes. He’d been avoiding me since then, until last night. He came to my quarters. I know he hasn’t been dealing well with the aftermath of the Vori brainwashing, and he’d been drinking. He said he loved me. We … started things, and then he asked if this meant we could be together now. I said we couldn’t. He pushed me away and left my quarters.”  
  
And suddenly her apology, her fierce passion this morning makes sense.  
  
“You’re in love with him,” I can’t stop myself from saying.  
  
She draws her breath in sharply, body taut, shaking her head.  
  
“Kathryn.”  
  
“I _can’t_ ,” she rasps. “He’s my subordinate. He’s in a relationship with another woman – a woman who’s having his baby. I _cannot_ have feelings for him.”  
  
“But you do.” I take her hand and turn her to face me. “I know exactly what would have been going through his mind when Riley came on board, and you know as well as I do that he’d never abandon his own child. But he doesn’t love her, and if things go on as they are, you know it’s only going to end up hurting everybody involved.”  
  
“What about you?” she asks, searching my eyes. “Do you love _your_ captain?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And does she love you?”  
  
I hesitate. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think she does. She’s never said so.”  
  
“You know why, don’t you?” she says pointedly. “Even if there wasn’t Lieutenant Frazier to consider – and the child – there are ample reasons why Chakotay and I can’t be together.”  
  
“Do those reasons really matter?” I can’t help the frustration colouring my tone. “Command structure, the crew, the regulations – do you really believe any of that makes a difference to how you feel? How _he_ feels? Do you really think being with him would interfere with your ability to run this ship?”  
  
She opens her mouth to reply, and is interrupted.  
  
~Tuvok to Captain Janeway.~  
  
Kathryn presses her lips together, then pulls away from me to cross the room, picking up her communicator from the desk. “Go ahead, Tuvok.”  
  
~Captain, I understand you are in conference with Commander Chakotay. However, it is 0815 hours and I stand ready to be relieved.~  
  
She closes her eyes. “Understood, Tuvok, and I apologise. We’ll be on the bridge in five minutes. Janeway out.” She turns to me, anger and shame scrawled across her features. “What was that you were saying about my feelings not interfering with my ability to command?”  
  
“Kathryn –”  
  
“That was a rhetorical question,” she snaps. She pulls on her turtleneck and jacket, fixing her commbadge to the front, and strides toward the door. “We have a job to do, Commander.”  
  
The turbolift is filled with our silence as we take the short ride up to the bridge.  
  
=/\=  
  
“Tuvok,” Kathryn says as she strides onto the bridge. “I’m sorry to delay your break, but I need all senior staff in the conference room at 0900.”  
  
“Aye, Captain.” Tuvok sends the message from the centre console then rises from the captain’s chair.  
  
“Status report?” she asks as she takes her seat, crossing her legs.  
  
“We passed a quiet night. There are three M-class planets within the sector and indications of warp activity on long-range sensors; however, no vessels have attempted to contact us or divert to our coordinates.”  
  
“Run a subspace differential scan of the region,” she orders.  
  
Tuvok’s eyebrows twitch. “For what purpose, Captain?”  
  
“To identify whether there’s a quantum fissure nearby.”  
  
“Understood.” If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect the old Vulcan was surprised.  
  
Kathryn gets up. “You have the bridge, Tuvok. Commander Chakotay has a prior engagement.” She flicks me a glance and disappears into her ready room.  
  
I meet Tuvok’s inscrutable gaze for a moment before I head back to the turbolift. Inside, I clear my throat, tapping my commbadge. “Chakotay to Lieutenant Frazier.”  
  
~Frazier here.~  
  
“Could you come to my office, please? There’s something we need to discuss.”  
  
~On my way.~  
  
I wander around this other Chakotay’s office while I wait for Riley, picking up and putting down ornaments and PADDs. Unsurprisingly, it looks much like my own. If I had the time I might take a look through his personal logs. But there’s really no point; I know what they’ll say.  
  
The chime sounds and I call for entry.  
  
“You wanted to see me?”  
  
I notice she doesn’t address me by name or by rank; she’s hedging her bets, uncertain whether she’s been called here by her lover or her commanding officer. I set her straight immediately.  
  
“Yes. Please sit down, Lieutenant.”  
  
She only hesitates a moment before she takes the seat on the other side of my desk, smoothing down her maternity uniform. She’s composed, graceful in her movements even with her six-months-pregnant belly. Unlike Seven of Nine, her de-assimilation has left her with no visible Borg implants. At least, none that can be seen with her uniform on.  
  
I wonder if her Chakotay feels anything for her other than obligation.  
  
I’m sure he’s tried.  
  
“I called you here because there’s something you need to know. I’m not your Chakotay.”  
  
She sucks in a breath, her hand moving to her abdomen in that protective gesture she displayed earlier this morning. “If this is about the captain…”  
  
So she does know. I’d wondered that, too.  
  
“It’s not about that –”  
  
“I’m the mother of your _child_ , Chakotay.” Her face contorts briefly. “Whatever our problems, surely that –”  
  
“Not my child,” I correct her, gentling my tone. “What I mean is, I’m not the Chakotay from this universe. Please let me explain,” I cut her off when she starts to speak. “There was an accident in my universe. The shuttle I was piloting intersected with a quantum fissure, causing a breakdown in the barriers between realities. My _Voyager_ attempted an emergency transport, which I believe created a tether linking the _Voyager_ s in different realities, as well as linking the alternate versions of the shuttle’s occupants. Every time I’m caught in a transporter beam I shift to another reality. This is the fourth I’ve encountered in as many days.”  
  
She’s silent for a moment, reading my sincerity. “I see.”  
  
“Kath – uh, the captain tells me you’re the chief science officer in this reality. I could use your help on this.”  
  
“To get back to your universe.” She studies me. “I guess the way you acted this morning makes sense now. We’re not together there, are we?”  
  
“You’re not even on board _Voyager_.” It takes some effort to keep my voice even. “In my reality, you and your cooperative used me to reactivate the generator on the cube and impose your will on the other liberated drones on your planet. I never saw you again after that.”  
  
_I hoped I never would_ , remains unspoken.  
  
Riley presses her lips together. “That would have been a much more convenient outcome for you.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“You’d have been free to … pursue other interests.” Before I can respond to that, she goes on, “Perhaps that other Riley Frazier is living on that godforsaken planet, expecting your child. I don’t suppose that’s occurred to you.”  
  
Spirits. No, it hasn’t, and I really wish it hadn’t occurred to her, either.  
  
“I’ll help you,” she says flatly. “I want my Chakotay back. He may not love me, but at least he cares about his child.”  
  
“If you know he doesn’t love you –” I force my lips to clamp shut.  
  
“Go ahead and say it.” She stares me down. “If he doesn’t love me, what am I doing with him? Especially when he’s in love with somebody else.”  
  
There’s no point denying it. “Yes.”  
  
“He’s a good man, and my child needs a father.” She drops her gaze, and says quietly, “And I’ve accepted that he doesn’t feel the same way for me as I do for him.”  
  
For the first time, I feel sorry for her. Sorry for the child, sorry for Kathryn, sorry for the fool who shares my face. What a mess.  
  
My computer console chimes, reminding me of the senior staff briefing in five minutes. “We have to get to the conference room.”  
  
Riley pushes herself to her feet, ignoring the hand I’ve automatically held out to help her. “Then let’s get started, Commander.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Riley and Seven do not get along.  
  
I’m not sure why I’m so fascinated by this. I guess I would have expected two liberated drones to find something in common, but they clearly dislike each other. It’s almost comical, the way these two beautiful blondes grow stiff and haughty in each other’s presence.  
  
Or maybe it’s not so strange after all. Riley embraces the humanity Seven has such difficulty accepting, and Seven is the protégée of Riley’s rival; I guess it’s safer for Riley to openly dislike her than to disrespect her captain.  
  
I tear my eyes away from them as Kathryn prowls the conference room, tossing an idea to B’Elanna, a theory to Harry. She’s unfailingly polite and professional toward Riley, I note. That captain’s mask sure comes in handy.  
  
After the briefing, Kathryn heads down to engineering with B’Elanna and Seven to work on aligning the transporters. She sends Riley and Harry to the science lab to investigate the quantum tether theory and Tuvok, who’s been on duty for almost eighteen hours, to rest. I take the bridge with no small sense of relief. It’s been an emotionally wrung few hours and I could use some peace and quiet.  
  
Of course, I should have known better than to hope I’d get any.  
  
“Commander, I’m picking up a ship on an intercept course. It’s approaching at high warp,” Paris reports from the helm less than five minutes after I’ve taken my seat.  
  
“Time to intercept?”  
  
“At current speed, about four hours. They’ll be in hailing range in thirty minutes.”  
  
“Scan them for weapons.”  
  
Paris’ fingers fly over the console. “At this distance their weaponry looks comparable to _Voyager_ ’s. I’ll be able to tell more when they get closer.”  
  
“Understood. Open hailing frequencies when they’re in range.” I tap my commbadge. “Chakotay to Janeway.”  
  
~Go ahead.~  
  
“We have company arriving, Captain. We’ll be in hailing distance in less than half an hour.”  
  
~Acknowledged. Keep me informed and I’ll come to the bridge when they’re approaching range. Janeway out.~  
  
Twenty minutes later she walks out of the turbolift, her face bent to a PADD, moving on autopilot to her chair. “Report,” she says abstractedly.  
  
“We’re receiving a subspace communication,” Ensign Lang reports from the ops station where she’s backfilling for Harry.  
  
“On screen.”  
  
Kathryn rises as the viewscreen displays a smiling, petite woman, her ears ridged and pointed like an Ocampan’s. “I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship _Voyager_ ,” she greets her.  
  
~Maja Lil of the Lyridian vessel _Kala_ ,~ the alien replies.  
  
“How may we help you, Maja Lil?”  
  
~We detected a subspace differential pulse emanating from your vessel. It seems you were attempting to scan a quantum fissure. May we enquire why?~  
  
“The reason is complicated, Maja, but I assure you our purpose was scientific. How did you detect the pulse from such a distance?”  
  
~My people are quite well-versed in quantum theory and mechanics, Captain. It’s rare that we encounter another species with similar knowledge. I would be interested in opening a dialogue. Perhaps we can assist you.~  
  
“We’d be grateful, Maja. Perhaps you’d like to come aboard when you reach our coordinates.”  
  
~I look forward to meeting you, Captain. Lil out.~  
  
Kathryn turns to me. “Have you encountered the Lyridians in your universe?”  
  
“Never heard of them.”  
  
“Well, they seem friendly enough.” She taps her chin, thinking, then stands. “I’ll keep working on the transporters until they get here. You have the bridge, Commander.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Maja Lil is so tiny she makes Kathryn look statuesque. She brings aboard a team of four – two engineers, two quantum scientists – and she and Kathryn immediately move into a conversation so rapid-fire and esoteric I lose the thread about two minutes in. I lope along behind them as they exit the transporter room, but halfway to the science lab, Kathryn shoos me back to the bridge to serve out the remainder of Alpha shift.  
  
Afterwards, I head to the mess hall to grab some dinner with Paris. He’s been glancing at me sidelong since this morning’s briefing, and as we sit down with our trays, he picks at his food, looking troubled.  
  
“Out with it, Tom.”  
  
“Sir?”  
  
“Whatever it is you want to ask, go ahead.”  
  
His ears turn red. “It’s nothing.”  
  
I put down my knife and fork and wait, eyebrows raised.  
  
“Okay,” he mumbles. “Uh, I was just wondering… in your reality, did you ever stop at a planet called Sakari?”  
  
_Ah_. “Yes, about eight months ago. Why?”  
  
“Did anything, um, unusual happen there?”  
  
“We found a Borg corpse,” I deadpan, then as his face falls I take pity on him. Lowering my voice, I lean in. “Okay, Tom. There was an incident with Ensign Vorik and Lieutenant Torres. She was suffering from Vulcan blood fever and chose your double to mate with her.”  
  
He looks crestfallen. “So we’re together in your reality?”  
  
I hesitate. The B’Elanna of my reality confided in me that she’d just recently told Tom she loves him, but she’s been avoiding him ever since, and it’s not my secret to share. “It’s complicated.”  
  
He looks like he wants to be sick.  
  
“Why are you asking?” I can’t help glaring at him. “If you’ve screwed things up and hurt her…”  
  
“No.” He picks up his fork and stabs angrily at whatever that thing is he’s eating; Neelix has outdone himself tonight. “I never got the chance. She’d finally agreed to go out with me that night – I was going to take her to dinner on the holodeck. Then Vorik tried to meld with her and she went down to that planet with Harry, and the next thing I know they’re a couple.”  
  
“B’Elanna and _Harry?_ ”  
  
“Yeah.” He looks at the purple mess on his fork and lets it drop onto his plate with a grimace of distaste. “I guess they’ve always had a thing for each other.”  
  
I guess he’s right; there was always something, a connection between them. But I know how my B’Elanna feels about Tom, and Harry wouldn’t stand a chance.  
  
“Are they happy together?” I ask.  
  
“No.” He finally looks me in the eye. “Harry and I don’t talk much anymore, but we got drunk one night and he told me she only had sex with him because she’d die if she didn’t. And now she won’t break it off because Klingons are supposed to mate for life.”  
  
“She’s only half-Klingon. And Harry’s human.”  
  
“Doesn’t matter. They took the oath, and she won’t break it.”  
  
Suddenly I’m sick of this universe, sick and sad for all these broken, lonely people and their bad decisions.  
  
“Listen, Tom, you and I haven’t always seen eye to eye.” His mouth twists a little and I shrug acknowledgement. “But for what it’s worth, in my universe, you’ve earned my respect. And I’m sorry. I think you and B’Elanna would have been good together.”  
  
“Thanks, Chakotay,” he says quietly. He stares into his plate for a moment longer, then scrapes back his chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve kind of lost my appetite.”  
  
No longer hungry either, I head to my office to find myself some vacant quarters for the night.  
  
=/\=  
  
Despite my exhaustion, sleep doesn’t come easily. When I finally do succumb I’m plagued with nightmares – Kathryn making love to me, wearing Seska’s face; a fully-assimilated Riley in the captain’s chair, smiling at me malevolently. I end up sleeping through the alarm and have to rush to the bridge, unshaven and hungry.  
  
“My ready room, Commander,” Kathryn says as soon as I step off the turbolift.  
  
She doesn’t look much better than I do, and it doesn’t surprise me that she heads straight for her replicator, returning with two mugs of coffee.  
  
“All-nighter?”  
  
“What? Oh. Yes.” She sits behind her desk. “They’re quite a fascinating people, the Lyridians. Very familiar with quantum theory, and technically adept.”  
  
“You and the Maja seemed to get along well.”  
  
“Doesn’t she remind you of Kes?” She smiles, then indicates the seat opposite her and I sit obediently. “Chakotay, we’ve come up with a working theory. Maja Lil believes a single-source transport won’t be enough to guarantee you’ll return to your original universe. There are too many variables, too many things that can go wrong. She believes the only way we’ll be able to stabilise the matter stream enough to beam you through the rift is if your _Voyager_ locks onto your signal as we initiate transport.”  
  
“And how are we supposed to get them to do that?”  
  
“We know how to target the deflector pulse to locate your universe. Lil thinks we can tune a subspace comm to the same frequency. We should be able to establish two-way communication with your _Voyager_.”  
  
“Sounds like a plan. When do we start?”  
  
“As soon as B’Elanna and Seven have finished aligning the deflector array.”  
  
She gets up and drifts over to the upper level, contemplating the Lyridian ship, visible through the viewport.  
  
“Kathryn.”  
  
“Hmm?” She doesn’t turn.  
  
“What are you going to do?”  
  
She doesn’t pretend not to know what I’m asking. Her shoulders slump. “I don’t know, Chakotay. All my reasons for pushing him away still stand, and they’re good, valid reasons. Captains aren’t supposed to get involved with members of their crew.”  
  
“But you are involved,” I point out as mildly as I can.  
  
When she speaks again her voice is strangled. “I almost wish you could stay here in his place. Maybe then it would be simpler.”  
  
I walk over and wrap my arms around her from behind, nuzzling my face into her hair. She holds herself rigid until I take her chin in my hand, turning her face to let my lips graze over her cheekbone, and then I feel her start to tremble. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted. My lips reach the corner of her mouth and she turns in my arms. I kiss her slowly, softly, my hand cradling her face, and when she presses her trembling body into mine it takes everything I have to pull away.  
  
~Torres to Captain Janeway. We’re ready to send the transmission.~  
  
“Acknowledged, Lieutenant. We’ll be right there.”  
  
She closes the channel and looks up at me, blue eyes liquid.  
  
“You know I don’t belong here,” I tell her softly. “But he does. He belongs here with you.”  
  
=/\=  
  
“Open a channel,” Kathryn orders, and at B’Elanna’s nod from the engineering station she goes on, “This is Captain Kathryn Janeway to the Federation starship _Voyager_ at the coordinates receiving this transmission. Please respond.”  
  
There’s a slight echo, and then the viewscreen switches to a mirror image of our bridge. Or at least, almost a mirror image.  
  
~We’re receiving you, _Voyager_ ,~ says the man on the screen who’s identical to me. His eyes are fixed on Kathryn. ~It’s good to see you,~ he adds, his voice soft.  
  
“Chakotay?” she asks guardedly.  
  
~I should have known you’d figure it out.~ He smiles at her.  
  
“We had a little help.” She studies him. “Are you the Chakotay indigenous to my universe?”  
  
~According to the crew here, yes.~ He moves his gaze to me. ~I hope my counterpart’s been behaving himself.~  
  
Oh, I’m not imagining the challenge in _that_ tone. I straighten up, careful not to step any closer to the captain. “If you don’t mind my asking,” I address him, “why are you answering our hail? Where’s Captain Janeway?”  
  
The man with my face gives me a long look. ~I think you and I should speak in private, Commander.~  
  
“Later,” Kathryn interrupts. “We don’t know how long this channel will remain stable, and we have a lot of work to do. Seven is sending you instructions for restoring each of you to your proper timelines. We’ll contact you in two hours; that should give you time to adjust your systems.”  
  
“Captain,” I murmur to her, “I’d like to speak with him alone, if you don’t mind.”  
  
“All right.” She looks at me carefully, then turns to the Chakotay on screen. “We’ll route your communication to my ready room.”  
  
~Thank you,~ he answers, not taking his eyes off her.  
  
At her nod, I head for the ready room and activate the desk console.  
  
“Okay, I’m here. What did you want to say to me?”  
  
~You asked me why I answered your hail instead of the captain. I didn’t want to tell you in front of everyone.~  
  
I have a feeling I’ll need to brace myself for this, so I sit down. “Go on.”  
  
~She’s dead,~ he says flatly. ~Her body materialised in the middle of the bridge, preserved in a stasis field.~  
  
My world lurches sickeningly and I feel beads of sweat coalescing along my hairline. I have to swallow twice before I can speak. “Is it… is it _my_ Kathryn?”  
  
~No. The Doctor confirmed she came from a different universe to this one.~  
  
I bend over, breathing harshly to get myself under control.  
  
~I assume your Kathryn is in her universe,~ he continues, giving me time to recover. ~I arrived here early yesterday morning, and there was another Kathryn Janeway here then. Apparently she’d materialised in the transporter room the previous afternoon. She claimed she’d just returned from trade talks with an alien race called the Xen’tu. She disappeared from the bridge at 0900 this morning, the same time the body appeared.~  
  
I’m trying to get my sluggish mind around all this. “That would suggest that each time the captain from my reality and I shift universes, our doubles from that new reality replace us on our _Voyager_.”  
  
~Like a game of tag,~ the other Chakotay says with a mirthless smile. ~Well, if you don’t object, I’d quite like to return to my own reality as soon as possible. I prefer a universe in which Kathryn Janeway is alive.~  
  
A sliver of ire slices through me unexpectedly. “Even a universe where you’re breaking her heart every single day?”  
  
~Don’t talk to me like you know what it’s like for me,~ he snarls.  
  
“Oh, I have a fair idea.” I stare at him angrily. “Riley Frazier? _Really?_ ”  
  
~Fuck you,~ he says, his voice flat. ~She’s having my child. What would you have done?~  
  
I scrub at my forehead. “I don’t know. But what you’re doing isn’t right. You need to sort it out.”  
  
He’s silent for a moment, then inclines his head to me. ~I intend to.~  
  
“That’s all I ask.”  
  
~I could say the same to you,~ he points out. ~I read your personal logs.~  
  
“Find out anything interesting?”  
  
He stares me down. ~You’ve never even kissed her.~  
  
I don’t say anything, and his eyes narrow.  
  
~You kissed my Kathryn,~ he accuses.  
  
He takes my silence, correctly, as an admission of guilt. To my surprise, his lips turn up in a smirk.  
  
~Amazing, isn’t she?~ he says, and then snorts out a laugh.  
  
I can’t help snickering. “Yes, she is.”  
  
~Fire up the damn transporter, Commander,~ he says, trying to smother his grin. ~I want you the hell out of my universe.~  
  
=/\=  
  
With Kathryn and Maja Lil directing, the B’Elanna and Seven of each universe successfully complete the transports of a number of biocontainers to my _Voyager_. By 1300 hours, they’re confident the procedure is as perfect as they can make it. Kathryn comms me to tell me they’re ready to send me home.  
  
I turn the bridge over to Tuvok and head for the turbolift. To my surprise, Tom Paris squeezes in before the doors close.  
  
“Deck two,” he says, then turns to me. “Commander, I was hoping you’d take a message to the other me.”  
  
“Sure. What is it?”  
  
“Tell him not to wait anymore,” he says, his blue eyes intense. “Tell him to stop being a coward and make his move. And then tell him not to screw it up.”  
  
I can’t help smiling. “Okay. I’ll tell him.”  
  
“Thanks,” he says as the ‘lift stops on deck five. He starts to step off, then hesitates. “One more thing, Chakotay…”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I have the same advice for you.”  
  
He leaps off the turbolift before I can do more than growl at him.  
  
“Deck four,” I order the ‘lift, then, “Belay that. Deck eight, science lab.”  
  
I have one more stop to make before I can go home.  
  
=/\=  
  
“You’re excused, Ensign.”  
  
Harry scurries out immediately, and Riley stands before me in the silent lab, in the classic at-ease posture.  
  
“Why don’t you just say what you’ve got to say to me, Commander.”  
  
“What made you decide to stay on board?” I ask immediately. “In my version of events, you were committed to making a life for your community on that planet. You used me to make that happen.”  
  
Her light-blue eyes wander over my face. “I can’t speak for her decision. I can only tell you that meeting you, meeting the other humans on this ship, made me long for home. I missed the Federation; I missed Starfleet. I wanted to be part of that again.” She smirks. “Or maybe you were just _that_ good that I couldn’t bear to let you go.”  
  
“I hardly think –”  
  
“Oh, lighten up, Chakotay. You seem to think I planned all this.”  
  
“Did you?”  
  
She huffs out a short laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. My motives had nothing to do with you.” She pauses, then nods. “All right, _almost_ nothing. But whatever the other me did to you, she isn’t me. All I wanted was to be back with my own kind.”  
  
My gaze drops involuntarily to her swollen belly.  
  
“No,” she says icily, “I didn’t plan _that_. But I never imagined I’d have children. This is a gift, Chakotay – a wonderful, miraculous gift. I wasn’t about to waste it.”  
  
And neither, I understand, would he.  
  
“It was his choice,” she goes on, her voice softening, “for us to be a family. I’d have this child even if he wanted no part of it. He’s the one who said we should be together.” Her mouth twists a little. “I was already falling in love with him when I found out about him and the captain.”  
  
I can’t help flinching.  
  
“He could have chosen to leave me for her,” she says, “but he hasn’t. I guess the baby and I are more important to him.”  
  
I wonder what he’ll choose when he gets back to his life. It’s not my place to speculate, though, so I nod and head for the door, but before I reach it my feet drag to a standstill. “Riley.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Is it a boy or a girl?”  
  
She stares at me, her eyes filling with tears. “A boy.”  
  
I can’t quite put a name to what I’m feeling. “Congratulations,” I manage. “He’s a lucky man.”  
  
Riley draws herself upright. “I wish he thought so,” she answers. “Goodbye, Chakotay.”  
  
“Goodbye, Riley.”  
  
I can’t escape fast enough.  
  
=/\=  
  
Three women are standing behind the controls when I enter the transporter room: straight-backed Seven in her silver catsuit, B’Elanna, looking tired and rumpled, and Kathryn.  
  
“You’re relieved,” Kathryn says to them, her eyes on me.  
  
“Our chance of success will be greater if we remain,” Seven objects. “If you are alone, you may be unable to compensate for any unforeseen eventualities.”  
  
Kathryn turns to glare at her, and B’Elanna heads for the door, grabbing Seven by the elbow on the way out. “We’ll be in engineering, Captain,” she tosses over her shoulder. The doors slide closed, muffling Seven’s strident protest.  
  
I walk over to her.  
  
“So, here we are.” I can see she’s trying to smile.  
  
“It’s going to be all right, Kathryn. You’ll get him back.”  
  
She steps into my arms, hugging me tight. “Thank you,” she whispers, and lets me go.  
  
I step up onto the transporter pad while she contacts my _Voyager_.  
  
~We’re ready over here,~ comes B’Elanna’s familiar voice on the other end of the comm line.  
  
“Energising,” Kathryn says, and I brace myself for the gut-wrenching pain as the transporter takes hold of me.


	9. People Break Easily

**9\. People Break Easily - Janeway (IV)**  
 **Stardate 51140.8**  
  
 _There are so many fragile things, after all. People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts._  
  
  
God. Oh, God. Where am I?  
  
It’s dark. Are my eyes open? It’s not making any difference. I can feel the presence of something smooth and solid, surrounding me, containing me. _A coffin_ , my mind suggests and immediately, violently rejects. I can’t hear anything, and the air is stale and difficult to breathe, I can’t _breathe_ …  
  
Wait. I _can_ hear something. It sounds like… like a soft, incessant beeping. Like the alarm that sounds when something’s wrong with a piece of equipment, or a warning.  
  
If a machine is raising an alarm, there must be somebody to hear it.  
  
No sooner does the thought occur to me than I’m beating my fists on the surface above me and screaming for help. And then the surface is wrenched away and I’m scrunching my eyes closed against the sudden flare of light.  
  
“Captain!” I recognise that voice, although I thought I’d never hear it again. “Captain Janeway?”  
  
I hook my arms over the edges of the thing that’s containing me and haul my upper body out of it, sucking in great gulps of fresh air. A small hand rests on my shoulder.  
  
“Shh,” the hand’s owner says, “it’s all right. You’re alive...”  
  
“Kes,” I croak, my eyes slitting open.  
  
My vision is still slightly blurred, but I can see the tentative smile on her angelic face. “It’s me, Captain.”  
  
“Where am I?”  
  
The smile dims fractionally. “You’re in the morgue.”  
  
Oh, God. It _was_ a coffin.  
  
“Captain, it’s so good to see you…”  
  
I look at her properly as my panic starts to fade. Her eyes are filled with tears, and I act on my impulse to wind my arms around her and hold her tight.  
  
“I’ve missed you so much.”  
  
“And I’ve missed you.” Kes hugs me back with surprising strength.  
  
“Help me out of this thing, will you?”  
  
She supports me as I squirm out of the stasis pod, casting a shuddering glance back at it. Before I can stop her, she’s activated her commbadge. “Kes to the bridge. Captain, please report to sickbay immediately.”  
  
 _Captain?_ But if she’s here –  
  
~On my way,~ replies Chakotay.  
  
Oh. Oh, God.  
  
My legs turn to rubber and Kes has to grab me around the waist. “Captain, we should have the Doctor examine you,” she says, leading me to a biobed. “Computer, activate EMH.”  
  
“Please state the nature of the – _Captain!_ ”  
  
“Yes, Doctor. It’s me.” I’m finally starting to collect my wits. “I take it you’re both surprised to see me.”  
  
“Well, yes.” The Doctor is still gaping at me, but reaches automatically for his medical tricorder. “You’re supposed to be –”  
  
“Dead,” I finish. “So I gathered.”  
  
I’m about to launch into my explanation when the sickbay doors hiss open and Chakotay strides in. “Kes, what’s going…”  
  
His voice falters, the colour draining from his skin as he sees me. I can actually see his knees buckling and he slaps a hand on the nearest biobed to hold himself upright. He opens his mouth, but not a sound comes out. All he can do is stare at me.  
  
“Doctor, Kes – would you give us a moment, please?” I ask, not taking my eyes off Chakotay.  
  
“Of course,” Kes murmurs. They fade discreetly into the Doctor’s office.  
  
I slip off the biobed and walk over to where Chakotay is standing, keeping my movements slow. “I know this is strange,” I tell him. “There’s a reason I’m here, and I’ll explain everything to you, but the first thing you need to know is –”  
  
I never get the chance to finish my sentence.  
  
He takes two gigantic, shaky steps, closes the distance between us, and hauls me into his arms. I barely have time to suck in a breath before his lips are on mine.  
  
The urgency, the frenzy in his kiss almost bends me backwards, but he has one arm circled around my waist and the other hand on my face, holding me close. I try to pull back at first, my hands planted on his chest, but I can feel how badly he’s trembling and hear the harsh gasps he’s breathing into my mouth, and I can’t do it to him. I can’t push him away.  
  
So I stand pliant in his embrace, trying to stop the tears leaking from my eyes as he kisses me as though his last breath depends on it.  
  
“Chakotay,” I whisper as a shudder takes hold of his body, but he just holds me tighter, his hands winding into my hair as he buries his face in my neck. “Chakotay, please…”  
  
He’s not the only one trembling. I’m turning to liquid, melting in the heat of his mouth and his hands on me, and I can’t do this. It’s wrong.  
  
 _“Captain!”_  
  
He jerks a little at the snap in my tone. Slowly, he releases me, his eyes fixed on my face. I take a step back, trying to wrestle myself under control.  
  
“You’re real,” he says in a voice so gravelly it makes me ache.  
  
“Yes,” I answer. “But – I’m sorry, Chakotay. I’m not the Kathryn Janeway you knew. I’m from a parallel universe.”  
  
He huffs out a breath, then rubs a hand over his face and levels his gaze at me. “A parallel universe.”  
  
“I’ve been on quite the side trip over the past few days. This is the fourth reality I’ve ended up in.” I watch as his eyes clear and his stance straightens, and I have to squash the almost-overwhelming pulse of desire that ripples through me.  
  
I’ve always taken comfort in the way he supports me, the way he acquiesces to my orders, and I’d be lying if I said his quiet allegiance doesn’t make my heart beat faster. But seeing him in command, a Starfleet captain in his own right – it gives me a different perspective. One that makes it even more difficult to quash those feelings I’ve never admitted I have for him.  
  
He suits those four pips on his collar.  
  
His gaze is still on my face, dark eyes welling with emotions I won’t let him name, but he’s back in control now. “You’d better fill me in – but first, I’d like the Doctor to examine you.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Doctor,” he calls.  
  
The EMH appears from his office, Kes trailing behind. I stand by the biobed as the Doctor runs his tricorder over me and confirms my alternate origins. I desperately want to ask after that other captain, how she died, how long she’s been gone, but every time I glance at Chakotay’s unreadable face, the words shrivel on my tongue.  
  
“Well.” The Doctor folds up his tricorder. “Aside from high levels of tachyon radiation, which is no doubt contributing to that headache you’re not complaining about, Captain, you seem in perfect health. May I ask how you got here?”  
  
“Later,” Chakotay interrupts, still not taking his eyes off me. “Thank you, Doctor, but I’d like to discuss Captain Janeway’s situation with her in private. And I’m sure I don’t need to ask that you keep this to yourself for now, for the good of the crew.”  
  
“Of course, of course,” the EMH mutters, then turns back to me and blurts, “It’s good to see you again, Captain. Very good indeed.”  
  
I give him the warmest smile I can muster, under the circumstances.  
  
“I’d appreciate it if we could use your office for a short while, Doctor,” Chakotay requests.  
  
The EMH deactivates himself without protest, Kes mumbles something about the airponics bay and makes her escape, and I’m left standing alone with the captain of _Voyager_.  
  
=/\=  
  
“Do you think we could sit down?” I give Chakotay a tight smile. “This could take a while.”  
  
He gestures silently to one of the chairs in front of Doctor’s desk and takes the other. I rub absently at the back of my neck, trying to ease my headache, and launch into recounting the events of the past few days. I tell him about the theories I’ve worked on with Seven and B’Elanna and the failed attempts to transport me to my home universe.  
  
I don’t tell him about the versions of him that I’ve met along the way, or what I’ve learned about the versions of me.  
  
When I finish talking, his gaze shifts to his hands, resting in his lap.  
  
“How close do you think you are to finding a way back to your universe?” he finally asks.  
  
“I thought we had it nailed in the last reality, but I was forced to undertake a beam-out to an alien ship and ended up here instead.” I sigh. “To be honest, I don’t know. The quantum rift is unstable and we haven’t been able to anticipate all the variables. A tachyon surge interfered with the transporter beam when I tried to leave the second universe I visited, but Lieutenant Carey came up with a way to insulate the matter stream against it. If I could use some of your people to help me, I could be ready to try again in a few hours.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
I tilt my head to the side. “Out with it, Commander.”  
  
He looks up at me, his eyes dark with sorrow. “It’s _Captain_ now.”  
  
I swallow. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“So am I.”  
  
Before I can stop myself, I reach forward and take his hands in mine. “How did she die?”  
  
He stares at our joined hands. “A couple of months ago we made contact with a race called the Tanatuva. They offered us shore leave on their planet. Kathryn and I went rock-climbing together. There was a freak seismic event and she was injured in a rockslide. She died of internal injuries before Voyager could beam us up.” He tightens his fingers over mine. “It was so senseless, so pointless. She’d survived battles and alien mind-invasions and macroviruses, and then she dies on fucking _vacation_.”  
  
His chair scrapes back and he strides over to the doorway, his back to me, clenching his fists, clearly trying to get himself under control.  
  
“It wasn’t your fault,” I tell him quietly.  
  
“If I’d had better medical training, maybe I could have saved her. If I’d never talked her into tagging along with me –” He stops himself, his jaw tightening. “I just wanted to spend some time with her. And now I’ll never see her again.”  
  
“Were you lovers?” I blurt, and instantly want to strangle myself.  
  
Chakotay whips around, staring at me. “Why would you ask me that?” His eyes widen. “Are you and he – in your universe?”  
  
“No,” I hasten to reply. “No, we’re friends.”  
  
His eyes search mine, and I find I can’t hold my gaze steady.  
  
“We were friends, too,” he says eventually, his voice low. “That’s the way she wanted it. I always hoped one day she’d change her mind. I thought we had all the time in the world.”  
  
I don’t know what to say to him, what to do. My instincts are at war with my conscience and it’s making me want to be anywhere but here. So I do what I always do: I fall back on my training. I stand and raise my chin, forcing myself to meet his eyes.  
  
“This is your ship, Captain, and your crew. But I need to get home, and for that I’ll need the help of some of your people. I’ll defer to your judgement on which of them should be made aware of my presence here.”  
  
He mirrors me, drawing himself upright, his face smoothing out. Tapping his commbadge, he says, “Chakotay to Torres. Report to sickbay immediately.”  
  
I’m impressed at the steadiness of his voice. “Thank you.”  
  
He nods. “You’d better wait out of sight while I brief B’Elanna.”  
  
I stand beside the Doctor’s desk, staring at his blank console. I hear the door open and close, Chakotay’s low voice, B’Elanna’s gasp. Then she’s bursting around the corner of the office. Her hands come up to her mouth, her face crumples, and she rushes forward to throw her arms around me.  
  
The hug is brief, but so fierce and so heartfelt that I find myself choking back tears. B’Elanna pulls back, surreptitiously wiping her eyes. “It’s good to see you again, Captain,” she says gruffly.  
  
“It’s good to see you too, Lieutenant.”  
  
And it is. I had the opportunity in the last universe to see what life on _Voyager_ was like without B’Elanna Torres, and I missed her. Not just her expertise; _her_.  
  
In fact, if there’s one thing I’ll take away from the insane reality-shifting of the past few days, it’s what I’ve learned about the people I serve with on this ship. It makes me wonder if I’ve been going about things all wrong. I was taught that the captain should always remain aloof, larger than life, to command the respect of her crew. So that’s what I’ve tried to be – someone slightly more than human. Or is it _less_ than human? I’ve done my best to make them all believe – make _myself_ believe – that as the captain, I sail blithely above the choppy ocean of human relationships. What I’ve expected of my crew is their obedience, their diligence, and in return I’ve given them my strength.  
  
But I’ve watched the way they’ve all thrown themselves into helping me – earnest Harry, gentle Joe Carey, brilliant B’Elanna, even Seven of Nine – and what I’ve realised is that, despite my self-containment, my unwillingness to show them the softer parts of myself for fear they’ll lose faith in me, they love me. Not just the captain. Me.  
  
When we were first thrown into the Delta quadrant, we were all too raw with grief and too busy trying to survive to be concerned with making a life for ourselves on the ship. But, several months later, things began to change. I noticed that people were forming relationships, becoming family to each other. Chakotay and I talked about the logistics of our journey more than once – the need for people to start pairing off and having children if it took us the whole seventy-five years to get home. But whenever he asked if I’d be among them, I told him that as captain, I couldn’t afford the distraction.  
  
I was fooling myself.  
  
When was it, I wonder, that this crew wormed its way into my heart? When did they become the people I consider my family?  
  
When did _he_ become more to me than my loyal first officer and my dearest friend?  
  
“Are you all right, Captain?”  
  
I realise I’ve been staring at B’Elanna, completely preoccupied with my own epiphany. I can feel Chakotay’s eyes on me but I can’t look at him for fear he’ll read my mind.  
  
“I’m fine, Lieutenant. I suggest we work in the science lab. We can close it off to the rest of the crew to minimise disruption.”  
  
She looks hesitant.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“It’s just… I know you’re not _our_ Captain Janeway, but I’m so happy to see you again. And I know I’m not the only one. Most of the crew would give their right arm to be able to talk to you one more time.” She turns to Chakotay. “It’s your decision, of course, Captain, but I could really use Harry’s help on this.”  
  
“I’ll have him transport you both directly to the lab and send him to meet you there.” Chakotay’s eyes slide to mine, then away. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the bridge.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Harry’s reaction to seeing me is as heart-wrenching as B’Elanna’s. There are tears in his eyes and he clearly wants so badly to hug me but doesn’t quite dare. I take the decision out of his hands and put my arms around him. “Oh, Harry,” I sigh as he sniffles into my shoulder.  
  
“Sorry,” he manages, pulling himself together.  
  
I’m thankful, once again, for my Starfleet training and its gift of emotional control. “Let’s get started, Ensign. Realign the deflector array to emit the subspace differential pulse and scan the rift for my original quantum universe. B’Elanna, you and I will reinforce the transporter systems against tachyon interference. We’ll need to increase power to the matter stream containment when we start the beam-out tests.”  
  
“Aye, Captain,” they chorus, and I can’t help smiling.  
  
After a couple of hours’ work I realise my headache is getting worse and stand to stretch, wincing at cramped muscles. B’Elanna notices. “Why don’t we take a coffee break, Captain?”  
  
“Great idea, Lieutenant.” I head over to the replicator. “And after that, I think we’re ready for a test run.”  
  
Harry orders green tea, B’Elanna her usual raktajino, and I bring my black coffee over to the secondary workstation, pushing a few PADDs out of the way.  
  
For long minutes we all sip in silence, and I realise I’m going to have to be the one to break it. I lean over to the console and bring up the astrometric display. “I see we’re on a different course to the route my _Voyager_ is following,” I comment. “In my reality, we found a way across Borg space a couple of months ago, with a little help from Kes.”  
  
Harry and B’Elanna exchange a glance. “Uh, yes ma’am,” Harry mumbles. “We, uh, encountered a species that was at war with the Borg. The captain decided to reverse course and follow a route that took us around the battle zone.”  
  
“She didn’t attempt an alliance with the Borg against the aliens?”  
  
Harry falls silent, looking at his hands. B’Elanna clears her throat. “Harry was talking about Captain Chakotay, ma’am. You – I mean, Captain Janeway - had died a few days earlier.”  
  
“I’m so sorry,” is all I can think to say.  
  
Harry gives me a pained look. “Uh, Captain, it’s almost lunchtime and I thought I’d bring us back some food from the mess hall. If you’ll excuse me?”  
  
He barely waits for my nod before he’s gone.  
  
“He took it hard,” B’Elanna says softly when the doors have closed behind him. “Well, we all did. But Harry was devastated. And Chakotay –” She stops abruptly.  
  
I place my hand over hers, pressing gently. “I have no doubt that all of you will do just fine, B’Elanna.”  
  
She ducks her head. “I’m sure in time we’ll get used to not having you around, Captain. Some of us will even be _just fine_.” Her chin comes up and she almost glares at me, challenge clear in her eyes. “But you know as well as I do that some of us will _never_ get over it.”  
  
My spine stiffens, and I meet her glare with one of my own. “As you were, Lieutenant.”  
  
B’Elanna smiles without humour. “Actually, the way I see it, _you’re_ not my captain, so I guess that means I can choose whether to obey your orders. Right now there’s something I want to say to you, and you need to hear it.”  
  
She rockets to her feet and paces the room, and I find myself on my feet. I know I should stop her, but some part of me wants to hear what she has to say. Against my better judgement, I school my voice and demand, “Out with it then, Lieutenant.”  
  
“When you died,” she says with her back to me, “Chakotay refused to believe it. He had the Doctor put your body in stasis and demanded he continue working on ways to bring you back. Tuvok had to talk him out of turning the ship around and heading back to Vidiian space, on the off-chance that their medical knowledge could help you.” She huffs out a breath, turning back to me. “Then we ran into a bunch of aliens who were blasting holes in the Borg, and I guess that focused everyone’s attention. As soon as we were out of the danger zone, Chakotay announced that we were continuing on our mission to the Alpha quadrant.”  
  
I can’t help a small smile of pride, and B’Elanna’s mouth twists.  
  
“Yes, I thought you’d approve of that. He thought so, too. Thanks to the need to divert around Borg space, we’re now facing another twenty-odd years added onto our journey. Most of us will never see the Alpha quadrant again, and quite a few people think we should colonise a planet somewhere and forget about getting home. But Chakotay won’t even consider it. He says we have to honour your wishes.”  
  
“Are you one of the people who wants to settle, B’Elanna?”  
  
She slumps, a little of the anger seeping out of her. “Frankly, Captain, there’s nothing for me in the Alpha quadrant. Almost all the people I care about are on this ship, and as long as I’m with them, it doesn’t matter much to me if I’m here or there. But Chakotay matters to me. Captain, he won’t let us hold a funeral or jettison her body. He didn’t even want to record her death in the ship’s log – Tuvok had to logic him into it by pointing out that the command codes wouldn’t be transferred otherwise. He simply refuses to believe she’s not coming back.”  
  
I feel the colour draining from my face.  
  
“So I don’t know if you being here now is what will finally make him accept that she’s gone, or the worst possible thing that could happen.”  
  
=/\=  
  
Harry seems to have regained most of his usual cheer by the time he returns, bearing a tray of something grey and noodle-like. He and I pick at it with suspicion, but B’Elanna rejects it completely, grumbling that it reminds her of _gagh_.  
  
I wash my lunch down with a cup of coffee and direct B’Elanna to start fine-tuning the transporter targeting scanners while Harry installs tracking devices on a couple of biocylinders.  
  
“We’re ready here,” I decide. “We’ll need to seal off one of the transporter rooms –”  
  
~Chakotay to Torres.~  
  
B’Elanna glances at me quickly. “Yes, Captain?”  
  
~Bring our guest to the bridge, please. There’s something here she needs to see.~  
  
“Aye, Captain. Uh, do you want us to transport there?”  
  
~No need. Chakotay out.~  
  
“After you,” B’Elanna says, gesturing for me to precede her into the corridor.  
  
I don’t think I’m imagining that the hallway is more crowded than it should be. At first I’m wary, expecting the crewmen I pass to react with shock. But it seems that word of my presence has got out. As Harry, B’Elanna and I move toward the turbolift, the crew, Starfleet and Maquis alike, line the bulkheads at attention. I see smiles, nods, a few tears. Two or three reach out to touch my arm or shoulder as I pass.  
  
I keep my chin up and my back straight. I nod to each crewman I pass, and I try to keep my smile fixed and my eyes clear.  
  
By the time we reach the turbolift, I’m trembling with a rushing mix of emotions – sorrow, gratitude, sympathy – and as the doors close, leaving me alone with B’Elanna and Harry, I have to clench my fists to stave off the tears. I feel a gentle touch on my elbow and turn to look into B’Elanna’s eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she offers.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For the things I said to you earlier.” She glances briefly at Harry. “It’s just – Chakotay’s my oldest friend on this ship, and I don’t know how to reach him anymore. I worry about him.”  
  
She’s not the only one.  
  
“Her dying has made me realise one thing,” she goes on, lowering her voice, even though we both know Harry can still hear her. “If you care about someone, it’s stupid to leave it too long to tell them. Even if they’re gone the next day, at least you’ve had one day of being with them, right? Life’s too short for regrets.”  
  
The ‘lift doors open onto the bridge, and B’Elanna’s face softens into a smile as she looks down toward the helm. Tom smiles back at her, and the voice of another Chakotay echoes in my head.  
  
 _In the end we decided it was worth the risk. If one of us lost the other, at least we wouldn’t regret wasting the time we had together._  
  
In that instant, everything is so clear.  
  
“Captain on the bridge,” Tuvok says as he stands up from the first officer’s chair, and I push aside my racing, exultant thoughts for later and step off the turbolift.  
  
=/\=  
  
After the reception I experienced in the corridor, I’m prepared for the crew’s reactions as I make the rounds of the bridge. Not that it’s any easier. I cope with the hugs from Tom and Neelix and Kes, but the deep sadness in Tuvok’s eyes as he offers me a Vulcan salute almost lays waste to my composure.  
  
When everyone has greeted me, I stand facing Captain Chakotay. “You wanted to see me?”  
  
“We’ve received a transmission for you.” He nods to the ensign at ops. “Activate the viewscreen.”  
  
I turn to the screen, and another Chakotay smiles back at me. I’m suddenly certain in my bones that he’s the right one.  
  
~Hello, Captain.~  
  
I’m completely helpless to suppress the smile that spreads across my face. “Long time, no see, Commander.”  
  
Deep dimples appear, and I have to fight hard to hide my reaction. I’m sure I’m blushing, though, no matter how hard I try not to.  
  
“How did you establish contact?” I ask.  
  
~It’s a long story, and I’ll be happy to fill you in later,~ he answers. ~B’Elanna is sending over the modifications you’ll need to make to your systems. Once they’re complete, we’ll coordinate the transport with you from our end.~  
  
I glance over at the engineering station, where this reality’s B’Elanna nods to indicate she’s received her counterpart’s instructions.  
  
“Well done, Chakotay,” I murmur. “It’s been an interesting few days, and I look forward to comparing notes.”  
  
He leans in a little closer, his eyes warm and voice soft. ~Come home, Kathryn,~ he says.  
  
The screen goes blank.  
  
“Captain,” B’Elanna calls from her station, “the modifications are pretty straightforward. We should have them done in about an hour, if I can rope in Harry’s help.”  
  
“Go ahead,” he answers.  
  
Schooling my face, I turn to Captain Chakotay. “Could we have a word in private?” I ask so only he can hear.  
  
He nods, and leads me into his ready room.  
  
“Two coffees, black,” he orders the replicator.  
  
I raise my eyebrows as he hands me one cup and sips from the other. “Since when have you preferred your coffee undefiled by cream and sugar?”  
  
His answering smile is tight. “It just makes her seem a little less far away.”  
  
“Oh, Chakotay.” I put my cup down and take his hand, leading him to the couch on the upper level. “Come sit with me?”  
  
When we’re settled, I begin, “I spoke with B’Elanna earlier. She’s concerned about you.”  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
I wonder if that phrase frustrates my Chakotay just as much when I say it.  
  
“You’re anything but fine. She died two months ago, Chakotay, and you’ve kept her body in stasis all this time. B’Elanna says you haven’t held a memorial service and that Tuvok had to insist you record her death certificate. You need to let her go.”  
  
To my surprise, he almost smiles. “Forthright as ever, Kathryn.”  
  
“You know she wouldn’t want this.”  
  
The humour fades. “Maybe this isn’t about what she wants,” he clips out. “Maybe I spent three years doing what she wanted. And look where it got me.”  
  
“Regardless,” I answer, keeping my voice even, “you’re the captain now, Chakotay, and you can’t change the fact that she’s gone. So if you want to honour her memory, do it by being the best captain you can be.”  
  
“I’m trying,” he says quietly. “I get up every day, put on the uniform, order us to continue on course for Earth.”  
  
“Yes,” I agree. “But that’s what she would do. What do you think is the right thing to do?”  
  
He says nothing.  
  
“Come on, Chakotay. You’ve never had a problem expressing your opinion in the past.”  
  
“All right. I think we should settle down on a planet. Form a community, build a home. Have children. Live with our feet on the ground and real air in our lungs.”  
  
“Then do it.” I curl my fingers over his where they rest on his thigh, gripping gently. “Be the captain you are, not the captain you think _she_ would be.”  
  
He turns his hand palm-upward, linking his fingers into mine. “I love you,” he says, staring at our joined hands.  
  
“And she loved you.” The truth of the words resonates in my voice. I watch as the tension seeps out of his shoulders and he smiles, finally looking into my eyes.  
  
“Thank you,” he says softly.  
  
Gently, I extricate my hand and rest my palm against his face. “Be happy, Chakotay. You know you can believe me when I tell you that’s what she’d want.”  
  
=/\=  
  
~Torres to Janeway. We’re ready when you are, Captain.~  
  
“Acknowledged,” I answer. “I’m on my way.”  
  
Captain Chakotay accompanies me back onto the bridge, where I smile at the crew that isn’t my crew. I’d like to wish them all goodbye, say a few inspiring words. But I’m not their captain and it isn’t my place, so instead I simply hug each of them and ask Kes to escort me to the transporter room.  
  
“Your counterpart was there, in the last reality I visited,” I tell her as we ride the turbolift to deck four. “I didn’t get the chance to speak with her.”  
  
“Then I’m glad we met in this reality,” Kes says in her gentle voice.  
  
We reach the transporter room and I stop just outside the doors to pull her into an embrace. “Take care of them.”  
  
“I will,” she promises.  
  
“I’ll miss you.”  
  
She smiles as she pulls back. “And I’ll miss you.”  
  
It’s time to go.  
  
“We’ve tied the annular confinement beam into the main deflector and aligned the targeting scanners to your universe’s quantum signature,” B’Elanna informs me as I step up onto the transporter pad. “The other _Voyager_ is standing by. Once we commence transport, they’ll lock onto your signal. It should be enough to ensure you materialise in the right universe.”  
  
“ _Should_ be?”  
  
“It’s not an exact science, Captain,” B’Elanna admits. “But the other Chakotay made it back.”  
  
“Well, what’s life without taking a few risks?” I smile at her. “Energise when ready, Lieutenant.”  
  
“Energising in ten seconds,” she replies. “Good luck, Captain. It’s been an honour.”  
  
“The honour is mine,” I answer as the beam takes hold of me, and the last thing I see before my molecules destabilise in a haze of pain is Kes’ sweet face, smiling at me.


	10. Just Like It's Meant To

**10\. Just Like It’s Meant To**  
**Stardate 51141.9**  
  
_And time passed properly once more, every second following every other second just like they're meant to._  
  
  
“Easy, Captain. You’re safe. You’re home now.”  
  
Janeway’s head pounds as she lets the Doctor ease her back down onto the biobed. “Water,” she pleads.  
  
He holds out a hydropouch and she closes her lips around the straw, sucking gratefully.  
  
“Report,” she manages, her voice still gruff with remembered pain.  
  
“You were successfully returned from the parallel reality about two hours ago. I’ve treated you for physical shock, mild electrolyte imbalance – weren’t you eating while you were tripping around through the multiverse, Captain? – and developed a brilliantly cutting-edge serum to clear the chroniton and tachyon particles from your system.” The EMH presses an analgesic hypospray to her neck. “I’m prescribing rest for at least twenty-four hours and plenty of fluids.”  
  
“Thank you, Doctor.” Janeway eases herself upright as her head clears. “I need to get to the bridge.”  
  
“Weren’t you listening, Captain?” The Doctor clucks his tongue in frustration.  
  
“I heard every word. And I will follow your very sound advice, Doctor, as soon as I’m certain that this ship is secure and the commander and I are no longer in danger of further quantum travelling.” She swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands, bracing her hip against its edge as she combs her fingers through her loosened hair and twists it efficiently into a ponytail. “I’m sure you can understand that I need to assure myself of that, after four days’ absence.”  
  
“You and the commander are as bad as each other,” he mutters. “Very well. I’ll comm you in an hour to check up on you. And Captain, I expect you to report that you’ve eaten something nutritious and are heading for bed, or at least relaxing with a good book.”  
  
“Understood.” Janeway smiles at him, pats him briefly on the shoulder and decides to exit sickbay while the going is good.  
  
Halfway along the corridor she hears the turbolift doors open and Chakotay steps out. His face is bent to a PADD and he almost collides with her before he realises she’s there.  
  
“Kathryn,” he says.  
  
His voice is raw, and a helpless, brilliant smile spreads across her face. “It’s good to see you, Chakotay.”  
  
She wants to touch him, to reassure herself he’s here and she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be. Her hand is hovering over his chest when the turbolift doors open again and B’Elanna strides into the hallway.  
  
Janeway snatches back her hand and straightens. “Report, Lieutenant.”  
  
“I was just coming to see you, Captain.” B’Elanna is also carrying a PADD, which she passes to Janeway. “My report on the quantum phenomenon. We’ve emitted a broad-spectrum warp field to seal it, just like the _Enterprise_ did. You don’t have to worry – there won’t be any more reality-shifting.”  
  
“Well, that’s a relief.” Janeway smiles at her and takes her arm to steer her back toward the turbolift, Chakotay falling into step behind them. “Bridge,” she orders.  
  
“It’s good to have you back, Captain,” B’Elanna says, colour rising on her cheekbones. “Not that it hasn’t been an interesting few days, but I’m glad things are back to normal.”  
  
“Interesting?” Janeway raises her eyebrows.  
  
“You don’t know?” The engineer glances quickly at Chakotay. “Uh, maybe I should leave the commander to fill you in.”  
  
Janeway turns her penetrating stare on Chakotay, who promptly fixes his gaze on the ceiling, trying and failing to hide the appearance of his dimples.  
  
“Maybe that would be best,” Janeway says hastily, recognising her first officer’s signal: this is something she would prefer hearing in private.  
  
The ‘lift deposits the trio on the bridge and Janeway strides to the command centre. Tuvok rises from her chair. “Welcome home, Captain,” he says with a slight inclination of his head.  
  
“Thank you, Tuvok. It’s good to be back.” She smiles around at her crew, then returns her attention to her second officer. “Status report?”  
  
“We have sealed the quantum rift and resumed our course for the Alpha quadrant at warp six,” Tuvok replies.  
  
“Very good.” Janeway moves toward her chair and finds herself halted by a hand on her arm. She looks up into the dark, chiding eyes of her first officer.  
  
“The Doctor ordered me to rest, and I’m pretty sure he gave you the same directive.”  
  
She gives the expected huff of irritation, then smiles at him. “It’s after 1930 hours. Why don’t you join me for dinner in my quarters, Commander? You can fill me in on what’s been happening here in our absence. I’m sure you have a few interesting stories to tell, as well.”  
  
“Shall we?” He offers his arm, and she links her elbow through his.  
  
=/\=  
  
“I got back a few hours before you did,” Chakotay begins as Janeway sets a fragrant noodle dish in front of him and takes the seat opposite at the table. “The Doc says I was out for two hours or so while he treated me. Did you find the transports painful?”  
  
“Exceedingly.” Janeway shudders as she deftly grips the noodles in her chopsticks. “It felt like they got worse each time.”  
  
“That was the build-up of tachyon particles in our systems. B’Elanna and the Doctor believe each transport was pushing us further from our original quantum state. I was fortunate that in my last shift, we met an alien species called the Lyridians who had quantum-based technology. They’re the ones who helped me get home.”  
  
“The Lyridians,” Janeway repeats. “I didn’t come across them at all. The Xen’tu, however…”  
  
Chakotay grins. “B’Elanna mentioned them. Apparently one of your alternates was quite put out that her unexpected side-trip had interfered with diplomatic relations with the Xen’tu.”  
  
“Alternates?” Janeway drops her chopsticks into her bowl. “Are you telling me there were other versions of us _here?_ In our reality?”  
  
“It seems each time you or I moved into a new quantum state, our counterpart appeared in this universe. B’Elanna explained it as a quantum tether phenomenon. She thinks it was triggered by the original destabilisation of the rift by our shuttle, and when _Voyager_ tried to transport us out, the beam created some kind of link between you, me, and _Voyager_.”  
  
“Fascinating.” Janeway props her chin on her hand, dinner forgotten. “So what happened to them, when you or I shifted again? Did they return to their own realities?”  
  
Chakotay’s smile fades. “Yes. After I returned, we made contact with the _Voyager_ in the universe I’d just come from. My alternate made it back, so we assume they all did.”  
  
She pins him with her gaze. “What’s the matter?”  
  
He pushes his meal away and picks up his wine instead. “I wouldn’t call any of my side-trips a dream holiday. It doesn’t exactly make me feel good to know that some other version of me was returned to a universe where –” He stops himself abruptly.  
  
“Where what?”  
  
“Where things aren’t as good as they are in this one.”  
  
Janeway sips her own wine, eyes lowered. “It definitely isn’t the worst of all possible realities.”  
  
The silence stretches between them. Her heart pounds faster. Now? she wonders, but before she can make up her mind to speak, Chakotay settles back in his chair and says lightly, “It seems our crew was well on the way to solving the problem, in any case.”  
  
“How so?” she asks, unsure whether to bless or curse her own vacillation.  
  
“Several biocylinders appeared from various universes while we were away.” He grins. “I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”  
  
Janeway laughs. “All those test runs. I thought we’d nailed it each time.”  
  
“B’Elanna says they were working on a way to contact us through the rift from here. Sooner or later, they would’ve brought us home.”  
  
“I’ve no doubt of that. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that our crew is very resourceful.”  
  
Chakotay raises his eyes to her. “That’s not the only thing I’ve learned.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
Instead of answering her implied question, Chakotay rises, gesturing toward the couch with the hand holding his wine glass. “Looks like we’ve finished eating. “  
  
Janeway slips off her jacket and boots and shakes the clip out of her hair, following him to the couch and tucking her feet beneath her. “You were saying?”  
  
Stretching his legs out before him, Chakotay gazes into his wine. “In two of the realities I visited, the crew ended up in battle – the first time against the Borg, the second with Species 8472. In the third, my counterpart had taken over the ship early in their journey and when I arrived, a mutiny by the Starfleet crew was in progress.”  
  
She stares at him.  
  
“And the fourth… well, let’s just say there were several people in that reality who’d made some very questionable choices.”  
  
“Such as?”  
  
Chakotay shifts uncomfortably. “Such as in their personal relationships. To be honest, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I’d never have believed people could make such a mess of things.”  
  
Janeway runs a finger around the edge of her glass. “That’s something I encountered, too. At least, in two of the realities I experienced.”  
  
“Tell me about them?” he invites.  
  
She puts down her empty glass, linking her fingers in her lap as she tries to decide how to begin. _Honestly_ , she advises herself, and bites her lip.  
  
“Most of my time was spent with the version of you that was native to each universe,” she says. “I had the opportunity to observe his relationship with my counterpart, in its various forms. In the second alternate reality, their association was… adversarial, but not for professional reasons. She -” Janeway takes a breath. “They were barely on speaking terms because she had allowed an exploitative sexual arrangement to develop between them. She broke his heart.”  
  
Chakotay stills.  
  
“And in the third reality… They didn’t trust each other from the start. After Jonas was unmasked as a spy, that Chakotay threatened to leave the ship. My counterpart seduced him into staying, and he agreed, as long as she’d continue having sex with him.”  
  
She risks a glance at him; he looks horrified. “Kathryn, I hope you know I would never –”  
  
“I know.” She smiles slightly. “I’m not saying she was his victim. She apparently derived plenty of satisfaction from the arrangement.”  
  
Something in her voice makes him put down his wine and shift closer to her. “Did she?”  
  
To his surprise, she blushes. “I don’t see how she couldn’t.”  
  
“Did you and he –” his eyes widen.  
  
“No,” she says hastily. “Well – not exactly. He, uh, thought I was her at first. Things got – a little heated.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“In fact” – _in for a penny_ , she thinks – “it wasn’t the first time.”  
  
Chakotay waits silently.  
  
She forces herself to look at him. “In the first universe, we were married,” she says softly. “I’d gone straight from sickbay to my quarters and didn’t realise I was in the wrong reality until the next morning. When I woke up, we were in bed together. He was – touching me, and it was –”  
  
He realises her breathing has quickened, colour blooming on her cheeks.  
  
“It was everything I’d ever dreamed about,” she finishes, swallowing hard as she maintains eye contact.  
  
Chakotay picks up her hand, a slow smile warming his face. “Is it ridiculous,” he murmurs, “to be jealous of myself?”  
  
She laughs, a little breathlessly.  
  
His fingers wind into hers. “I have a confession to make, too.”  
  
“Yes?” she husks.  
  
“You aren’t the only one who ended up in a, um, compromising position. There were a couple of Kathryns who taught me a thing or two as well.”  
  
“Really?” She watches as his fingers slide over her palm, stroking up underneath the sleeve of her turtleneck.  
  
“Really,” he says in a melted-chocolate tone she’s never heard him use before. “You’re an incredible kisser, Kathryn, in any reality.”  
  
“How do you know?” She can hardly catch her breath. “You haven’t kissed me in this one.”  
  
The slow circling of his fingertips stops, and he raises his eyes to hers. She’s sure that what she wants must be written in them plainly for him to see, but still he hesitates. So she gathers her courage and leans in the few inches it takes to gently press her lips to his.  
  
His sharp intake of breath makes her skin flush, and she takes advantage of the slight parting of his lips to lick lightly at the corner of his mouth before she pulls back slowly. “How did that compare?” she manages to whisper.  
  
“I’m not sure.” His voice is roughened. “I think I’ll need further data to make an assess-”  
  
She stops him with another kiss, less hesitant this time, and feels his hands come up to her shoulders, not pressing, just holding her lightly. He nips at her lower lip and she can’t help the breathy little moan that escapes her. When she pulls back this time she looks into his eyes, and the naked want in them makes her shiver.  
  
“Is this –” he has to catch his breath before he can go on, “is this real?”  
  
She looks a question at him.  
  
“The last time you kissed me, you turned out not to be yourself,” he clarifies. “I’m just having some trouble believing –”  
  
She kisses him again. Her tongue sweeps lightly inside his mouth and his hands come up to tangle in her hair, and all she wants is to be closer to him, to press every inch of her body to his. So, before she can second-guess herself, she slides over to straddle his thighs and pulls her mouth from his to nip delicately along his jaw.  
  
“Does this feel real to you?” she whispers in his ear, and feels him shiver.  
  
“Kathryn…” His fingers span her waist, curve downward over her hips. Suddenly impatient, she tugs her turtleneck and tank over her head and leans in to press herself against his chest, grinding against the hard length she can feel between her legs. She breathes out a moan. To her surprise, he stills his hands.  
  
“What’s wrong?” she asks, fearful.  
  
Gently, he tugs her upright and cups her face in his hands. “We’ve both been through a lot these past few days,” he answers quietly. “I don’t want you to make any decisions you’ll regret.”  
  
The way he’s looking at her is so tender it brings tears to her eyes. Her voice is choked as she replies, “I’ve learned quite a bit about regret lately. I don’t want us – you and me – to be one of mine.”  
  
He waits, and she struggles to find her courage.  
  
“I love you,” bursts out of her. “I love you so much.”  
  
Chakotay stares at her, hope dawning in his eyes.  
  
“I’ve seen what happens to us when we aren’t truthful with each other – when I’m not truthful with you,” she tries to explain. “And I’ve seen what we could be together when I am. I don’t want to hide the way I feel from you anymore. I don’t want to wake up one day and realise we’ve become strangers, or that you’re gone and I never told you –”  
  
This time, he’s the one who cuts her off, his mouth finding hers in a kiss so fierce, so fervent, it’s almost bruising. She gasps as his palms sweep up her ribcage, curving around her back, his big hands holding her close. She wants to feel his skin against hers so she pushes the jacket from his shoulders and starts to wriggle her hands up underneath his turtleneck. He breaks the kiss, breathing hard.  
  
“I love you, too,” he says, his smile lighting up his face.  
  
Tears of relief and joy well up in her eyes and she leans in to capture his lips again.  
  
~Doctor to Captain Janeway.~  
  
Her mouth inches from Chakotay’s, she groans. Chakotay laughs, a deep rumble she feels throughout her body, and snags her turtleneck from beside them on the couch. She presses the commbadge on its front. “Yes, Doctor?”  
  
~This is your chief medical officer reminding you to follow doctor’s orders, Captain. I trust you’re resting?~  
  
Janeway’s mouth quirks to the side as she meets Chakotay’s amused gaze. “As a matter of fact, Doctor, I’m just on my way to bed.”  
  
~Very good, Captain,~ comes the surprised response. ~Doctor out.~  
  
She lets the turtleneck drop.  
  
Chakotay traces the line of her jaw with one finger. “Do you want me to leave?”  
  
“Only if you’re not planning to join me,” she murmurs, leaning her face into his touch.  
  
“Are you sure?” His voice is smoky with barely-contained desire.  
  
“Computer,” Janeway says, her eyes still fixed on his, “route all my calls to Lieutenant Tuvok until further notice. Inform him that Commander Chakotay and I are not to be disturbed tonight for anything less than a red alert.”  
  
~Acknowledged.~  
  
At the computer’s tinny chirp, Chakotay latches his mouth onto hers, hauling her close against him. She moans, winding her fingers into his hair, her thighs tightening around his hips. His mouth moves down her throat, licking, nipping, sucking, and she throws her head back, her breath expelled on a long, shuddering sigh.  
  
She feels him smile against her collarbone.  
  
“What?” she asks breathlessly.  
  
“Nothing,” he whispers, mouth hot and open on the sensitive skin above the edge of her bra. “Just happy. You make me happy.”  
  
The significance, the weight of what she’s doing, what _they’re_ doing, settles inexorably into her every thought and nerve and muscle. _I make him happy_ , she repeats to herself. And no matter how weighty the decision, she knows with certainty that she’s never felt so light.  
  
Exhilaration bubbles through her veins, filling her with joy that transmutes into a depth of desire, of need, that leaves her trembling. Suddenly she can wait no longer.  
  
“Off,” she demands, tugging at his shirt until he helps her, pulling it over his head. His fingers pry at the clasp of her bra and she arches her back, partly to help him, partly to press against the smooth warmth of his chest. He tugs the bra away. At the full, naked contact of his skin against hers she moans, her arms winding around his shoulders. Her nipples harden into pebbled, aching points. His hands move to her hips and she grinds against him, her lower body hot and liquid. She wants their clothing gone – all of it.  
  
As she squirms her hands between them to fumble with the fastening of his pants, he grips her backside tighter, and suddenly they’re moving. Her legs wind around his hips as he lifts her in his arms, stumbling toward her bedroom. The friction of their bodies makes him clamp his mouth onto the pulse point in her neck, his eyes half-closed and her breath hot in his ear. Then gravity shifts and she’s falling, drifting down onto the bed, and he’s on top of her, his mouth on hers again as he holds her to him with one hand on her back. The other skims a lazy trail over her shoulder and down her arm. His thumb brushes the side of her breast and she whimpers and squirms toward it. His touch returns, deft and sure, his fingers cupping her breast, thumb grazing her nipple.  
  
“Chakotay,” she gasps.  
  
He pulls back slightly to look into her eyes and she sees the doubt in them: he’s waiting for her to pull away, throw up her barriers. Her hands come up to his face.  
  
“Don’t you _dare_ stop,” she says fiercely. “I swear to you, I won’t change my mind. This is forever. Do you understand?”  
  
She watches his eyes change, the lust in them almost savage, almost frightening. “Then you’d better be ready,” he growls. “Because I have no intention of stopping until you forget your own name.”  
  
She lets her fingers slide from his jaw, laying her arms above her head to expose her body to him. Her voice is low and husky.  
  
“Do your worst, Commander.”  
  
His kiss, when it comes, is surprisingly delicate. He tastes and caresses her lips with his own until she’s writhing, her body arching and twisting toward him. At last he takes pity on her, kissing his way down her jaw, her throat, over her chest, until finally his hot mouth closes over one nipple. She almost sobs, winding her fingers into his hair to hold his head to her as he licks and nips. Her legs widen and he shifts between them, pressing into her. She moans, pushing her hand impatiently between them to stroke him, but he moves out of her reach.  
  
“Be patient, beloved,” he murmurs, the words sending shivers along her skin, but when she whines in response he slides one hand over her stomach, flipping open the fastener on her pants. His mouth follows, kissing a path from between her breasts, down her abdomen, over the dip and curve of her hip. She uses her toes to push off her socks as he drags the pants over her thighs and off. His tongue dips into her navel as his hand follows the curve of her ass. And then he’s moving lower, and she spreads her legs for him as he nuzzles the inside of her thigh, inhaling her scent, dragging his tongue over her clitoris as she shrieks and arches her hips toward him.  
  
His lips close over her nub and he sucks at her while she thrashes on the bed, her fingers gripping his shoulders hard enough to bruise. “Oh, God,” she cries, and then he’s pushing his tongue inside her, lapping at her juices as his thumb presses her clit, and she can no longer form words. The climax almost takes her by surprise: not the fact of it, but the ferocity. Her head is thrown back, her eyes wide and staring sightlessly at the ceiling as her breath rushes out on a scream, her body shuddering helplessly.  
  
Chakotay stills her with a hand flattened on her stomach, his tongue tracing patterns over her hardened nub, and the trembling aftershocks turn into twitches and jerks and gasps as he brings her up again. He presses a finger into her, marvelling at the tight play of her inner muscles, and she whimpers and thrusts against him. A second finger enters her as he flattens his tongue over her clitoris and it sends her flying, her back bowed with the force of her second orgasm.  
  
He’s enchanted, and ready to make her fly apart a third time, but she groans and pushes at his shoulders with shaking hands.  
  
“Stop,” she pleads. “I need you, _now_.”  
  
And he finds that he needs the same thing. So he strips hurriedly and moves back between her legs, his cock so hard it’s painful as it nudges between her slick, soaked thighs. She moans, her body undulating against his, her legs locking around his hips. He tries to be gentle – he knows it’s been awhile for her – but as the head of his penis enters her she sinks her fingernails into his lower back and twists her hips, and with a growl that matches her own, he sinks deep into her willing body.  
  
The feel of her, wet and hot and grasping, makes him groan and drop his forehead against her shoulder, fighting desperately for control. She tightens her arms around his back, arching into him. “Don’t move,” he manages.  
  
“I’ll try,” she answers in a voice so throaty with want that he groans again, unable to stop the movement of his own hips. She gasps at the delicious friction and the knowledge that it’s _him_ inside her, _finally_. She grips him, inside and out, and as he begins to thrust she can’t help the soft moans and whimpers that escape her throat.  
  
“God, Kathryn,” he says tightly. “I can’t hold on –”  
  
“Let go,” she whispers.  
  
“Not without you,” and he moves a hand down to press against her, fingers circling. He’s fucking her hard, his thrusts long and deep as he sends her spiralling up again, her moans almost constant now. Then her back arches and her body clenches around him and she lets out a cry so wild he can’t hold back any longer. Driving into her as deep as he can go, he shouts out his joy as he comes, the hot jet of his seed triggering another shock inside her.  
  
Trembling, he collapses onto her, retaining just enough wit and strength to roll onto his back, taking her with him. She nestles her face into the curve of his neck as he trails his fingers the length of her spine. She shivers luxuriantly at his touch, gooseflesh prickling her skin.  
  
“Are you okay?” he murmurs.  
  
He feels her mouth curve into a smile against his skin. “Are you kidding? _Okay_ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”  
  
He grins, but he has to be sure. “And are _we_ okay?”  
  
She raises her head, propping her chin on folded arms. “I love you,” she says simply, and the clear blue of her eyes holds his, easing his last remaining fears. “I’ll never give you reason to doubt that again. Ever.”  
  
She leans down to kiss him softly, tenderly, her hair falling in a curtain around them.  
  
He wants to wake her up with kisses every morning, to bicker gently over her coffee intake and cajole her into eating.  
  
She wants to fall asleep in his arms each night, her head pillowed on his chest and his arms around her, safe, protected, loved.  
  
“So,” she whispers, nipping at his lower lip, “now that the adventure’s over, do you think we can make it work in this reality?”  
  
“All I know,” he murmurs as he rolls her gently onto her back and dips his head to graze his lips over her forehead, her cheekbone, her mouth, “is that this, right here, is the best of all possible universes.”  
  
(FIN)  
  



End file.
